


Overlapping Fates

by sweetspice



Series: Occult AU [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: (named animals will be fine don't worry), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Demons, Familiars, Harm to Animals, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, Love at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, Nightmares, Occult, Psychological Trauma, Size Kink, Soul Bond, Spell Failure, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetspice/pseuds/sweetspice
Summary: He gathers whatever strength he has to hoist himself back on Tsumugi’s back so he can take them home. The movement makes Sora chirp unhappily, but there’s not much Natsume can do about that.“It's gonna be okay, Sora. I'll take care of you. I'll do better, so you won't get hurt anymore,” he says through his tears, magic oozing from his voice, “I promise.”
Relationships: Aoba Tsumugi/Sakasaki Natsume, Harukawa Sora/Sakasaki Natsume
Series: Occult AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022265
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a while since Natsume last saw the big trees from up close, grass prickling his ankles, the gentle breeze on a clear day as the sun warms his skin. Even if his mother protected him from the evils by disguising him as a girl, it’s not like it made his health change. _You’ll get healthier as you grow_ , she’d tell him, and Natsume trusted his mom, so he believed her, and accepted her protections. Some of which included not going out in the cold, or playing in the dirt, or any other child-like things that could compromise him. In many ways, Natsume presented as a prim, proper young lady.

So moments like these, where he could go to a park and enjoy nature, were so rare he could count them using only his hands. Natsume sits down under a tree, back leaning against its trunk as his hands splay out to feel the earth under him, child-like laughter coming from his mouth as he enjoys every single second of this so precious moment. He closes his eyes, to listen to the wind, to the shaking of the leaves, the birds singing—his thoughts stop. Yes, the birds are singing, definitely, but he can hear one individual chirp among all of them, and, paying further attention, it’s close enough that it feels like it comes from beside him.

Opening his eyes, Natsume turns his head, trying to find the source of it, crawling slowly as he moves to look at the other side of the tree. There, he sees, almost hidden by the tall grass from how small it is, a baby bird chirping away as if calling for someone to come to them, its tiny yellow head the only thing differentiating it from the green in its surroundings. He approaches ever so slowly to not frighten the small thing until he’s close enough that his shadow covers the bird. It chirps louder, but it doesn’t really feel like a scared sound, just... desperate. Natsume notices how one of its wings has a scratch on it, a big one for such a small thing, and looking up, he can make out a nest above them. “Did you fall…?” He asks, even though the bird can’t really answer him. Natsume isn’t as powerful as his mom, he can’t connect with nature and animals the same way she does, couldn’t listen to their thoughts and needs.

All he can do is guess, and act according to it. He takes the bird — who still chirps nonstop — carefully in his cupped hands, making sure to not touch the scratch lest he hurt it any further, nestling it close to his chest so it wouldn’t shake as much during his walk back to where his parents were. “Mommy!” Natsume calls when they’re within earshot, his mom looking back to see just why her son sounds so distressed, a slightly worried look on her face.

He doesn’t quite run, unwilling to risk tripping over something and dropping the bird, so he takes a few more seconds to get close enough so she can see what it is that he’s so carefully holding. “Mommy, I found a hurt birdie.” He tells her, showing the bird in his arms.

“Oh dear,” she says, looking at the hurt animal, “so the poor thing fell from the nest, huh?” She extends her finger, gently stroking its tiny head. It stops chirping immediately, instead bumping its head against her finger as if asking for more. Natsume gets him, he also loves getting head pats from his mom. “What a cute little boy.”

“Yeah, I saw the nest when I looked, but it was on a super high branch…” Natsume explains, a bit calmer now that the bird is as well, “but I can’t reach it, plus he’s hurt so maybe I could take care of him? Until he gets better.”

“Sounds like a great idea, honey.” She smiles at him, patting his head. “Now take mommy to where the nest is so she can be sure it’s okay to do so, hm?”

“Okay!” He replies eagerly, happy that he can take care of the little baby. He’s never had a pet before, so even if it’s just a temporary thing, he’s excited about it. The bird is in great hands, he’ll make sure of it.

—

Natsume feels something nipping at the tip of his nose; it doesn’t hurt, although it’s kind of annoying, pulling him from his dreams as the nips continue. He knows exactly what they’re meant for — after all, he’s been woken up like this for a few days now. Opening his eyes slowly, Natsume sees the blurry form of the bird, standing too close to his eyes to be anything more than that.

“Good morning, Sora.” He says, and the nipping stops, Sora backing from his face now that his job is done.

He quite likes the name he picked, like the sky and the universe around them. It’s fitting for a bird, he thinks. A bird who grew very attached to him — though Natsume would never complain. It’s been a bit more than a week since he found Sora in the park, and since then, he’s been living in Natsume’s room. Though it’s more correct to say that he’s been living wherever Natsume is. He’d follow Natsume around all the time, and sometimes chirp when he wanted to get on top of his head to peck at his hair, or just crawl under his dress when Natsume was laying down to take a nap on top of his chest.

His wing has mostly healed, and although Natsume was saddened to find when he got home that it was also broken, his mother helped him with the process of taking care of it so the fracture could heal properly, not that Natsume understood much about it; he mainly just followed what his mother said. In the meantime, Sora himself had grown as well. Natsume spent a good amount of time looking at bird books to try to find Sora’s species, and going by how he looked now, he’s almost a fully grown, adult bird. Not like he acted anything like human adults do, though, which Natsume is thankful for. 

Sitting up on the bed, Natsume rubs his eyes to chase the last bits of sleep away. Sora hops onto the hand still on the bed, pecking Natsume’s wrist. “Alright, alright, calm down.” He laughs a bit, lifting his hand to put the bird where it wanted to be: the top of his head. Natsume can’t really see Sora from this angle, but he feels the way he just lays down on his hair, thankfully free of bead-head from the braid he’s wearing.

He gets up to dress himself but stops beforehand to look out the window beside his desk. The bright nature stares back at him, trees and valleys as far as he can see. “You’re gonna go back soon, huh,” Natsume says, his tone sad, heart sinking a little. “I’m gonna miss you, Sora.”

—

For the first time in possibly his entire life, Natsume leaves his house twice in a month. The first one was when he met Sora, the small, cute, affectionate baby bird he nursed back to health for two weeks until he was no longer a chick. The second time is when he has to bring Sora back, and this time, Natsume doesn’t smile nearly as much, and the sun doesn’t warm his skin as it did before.

Walking hand in hand with his mother, he doesn’t even have to worry about carrying Sora; the bird being on his favourite spot atop Natsume’s head. He can see the tree in the distance already, and he wants to slow down, to go back home — he knows Sora’s place isn’t with him, he’s not a pet bird by any means, even if he acted a lot like one, setting him free is the right thing to do, it’s just not what he wants to do.

They get to the tree, stopping in front of its trunk, Sora’s family’s nest just above them. Natsume looks up at it, and suddenly, he feels tears pricking his eyes. It hurts, _a lot_. He wishes he could’ve spent more time with Sora, like, maybe a lot more time. He doesn’t notice his mother kneeling in front of him until her hands are on his face, wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

“It’s okay, honey,” she tells him, voice calm and soothing, “he’ll still be with you, right here.” She touches a finger to his chest, indicating his heart. “But he has to have his free life, too. You can’t lock away nature.”

Natsume knows what she’s saying makes sense. His mom always talked to him about things like that. But his tears won’t stop, and his heart is still heavy. He trembles so much that Sora jumps from his head to his shoulder, pecking at his falling tears as if he too is saying that it’s okay, again and again with each peck. Natsume bends his head to the side, cuddling Sora, feeling his soft feathers brush his cheeks. _It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay_ , he repeats his mom’s words in his head, again and again.

“Y-yeah,” he tells his mom. And really, it’s not okay, not for him, but he doesn’t want to be selfish like that, that’s not the kind of boy he was raised to be. 

His mom smiles at him; it’s clear she knows how he’s feeling, but Natsume just hopes she feels proud of him for choosing what’s right. “Mommy’s gonna lift you up so you can help him up, okay?” she asks, and Natsume nods his head in agreement.

She doesn’t physically lift him, however, just that wouldn’t be high enough for him to reach the nest. Instead, with a movement of her hand, it’s like the air itself raises him, until he’s face to face with the high branch. He opens his palm, signalling for Sora to jump from his shoulder to it, and he obediently does so. Natsume hiccups, but works through his tears to carefully take Sora to his nest, stopping his hand right in front of it.

“You’re home now, Sora,” he says, somehow managing to not to stutter, tasting his own tears when they fall into his mouth. 

Sora turns back to look at him, dropping his tiny head to the side as if questioning what Natsume means. As if wondering why he was letting him go. Or at least, that’s what Natsume wants to believe. Sora hops onto the tree branch; his nest itself is empty, but two other birds are standing on the branch, and if they’re Sora’s parents or siblings, Natsume can’t tell. He extends one finger towards Sora, who gets closer so Natsume can properly stroke his head. Somehow, that makes him cry even more. He’s going to miss Sora so, so much.

“B-bye bye, Sora,” speaking without stuttering now is pretty much impossible, and right after he says goodbye, his mother lowers him down again. Not the whole way to the ground, though, she stops him midway so she can hold him up, pulling Natsume’s head to lie on her shoulder while she pets his hair, rocking him like she would a crying newborn. His sobbing doesn’t stop, but he still clutches her shirt with his tiny, trembling hands, seeking as much comfort as he can.

He cries as his mother takes him from the park; he cries on the ride back home, and he cries as he goes to sleep in his parent’s bed because he doesn’t want to be alone; he does it until there are no tears left in him, falling asleep only out of exhaustion, missing the feeling of feathers on his skin.

—

It’s been a few weeks since Natsume started waking up to an empty birdcage, by his mom calling him rather than by the feeling of something pecking at his nose. His days feel empty, but his mother reassures him constantly that it’s okay, _he’s_ gonna be okay soon too. He gets out of bed, still tired, rubbing his eyes to try and get himself a bit more awake so he won’t fall headfirst on his breakfast plate.

Opening his door, he walks along the wide hallway and down the stairs, being greeted as soon as he reaches the ground floor — not by his mother or father, but by a big, imposing black panther, who’s waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. He bumps Natsume’s side with his big head, which is one of his many ways of saying hello.

“Morning, Occhan,” Natsume says, patting the panther's head; it’s not really his actual uncle, but he’s grown up with his mother’s familiar caring for him just like family would, so he’s just used to calling him like that. Natsume doesn’t smile like he used to, he’s still not well enough for that, but he can at least pet that soft fur to feel slightly better. 

He stays like that for a bit, hoping that comforting feeling will be enough to get him through the day, because although it’s not the same as feathers, Natsume did always love cats — although considering his upbringing, it’d be hard not to. He runs his hands through the top of the panther’s head and down his back, the familiar purring loudly, as he always does at Natsume even without the petting.

Until he hears chirping, and his hand stops immediately. It’s close, unlike the usual chirps of birds on the far trees, and Natsume snaps his head in its direction to find out exactly who’s making that sound. Through the stained foyer window, he can see the rough shape of what looks to be a small bird, and Natsume feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest. He’s hopeful, as hopeful as he can be when he runs towards that window. Natsume can’t quite reach the lock with his small size, so he climbs on the table by the window to open it in a hurry, to try and see what’s behind it, to confirm he’s not going crazy and at the stage of grief where he starts having hallucinations.

The window snaps open with such force it doesn’t seem like it came from a 10-year-old boy, thankfully also the type that opens to the inside, so Natsume doesn’t throw the bird away with it, or what very much looks to him like a bird. He looks down, almost hurting his neck with how quickly he does so, and what he sees makes the world around him stop. There, standing on the windowsill, is a small bird, with its yellow feathers and a singular green stripe running through the top of its head. 

“Sora?” Natsume calls, voice weak, still not quite sure what he’s seeing is real. The bird chirps back at him, hopping on top of Natsume’s hand. Natsume sobs, tears dropping from his eyes straight onto the stone, some of them falling on top of the bird that now he’s sure is Sora, who chirps again, like he’s trying to talk to him.

“Mommy!” He calls, trying not to scream too loudly, so he doesn’t scare Sora away. He’s still looking at Sora, now using one of his trembling fingers to pet his head, being as careful as he can to not drown Sora in his tears. He doesn’t even hear the footsteps of his mother coming for him until he hears her voice.

“What is it, honey?” She says, and there’s a hint of worry on her tone, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Natsume turns his head away from Sora only to lift his hand, showing him to his mother. “Sora’s back, mommy! He came back!” He says through tears, face already turning red from crying.

His mother’s expression softens when she sees why exactly her son is crying. “That’s good, isn’t it, honey? That he came here by himself, instead of being tied down.”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters from trying to hold back a sob.

Sora takes the opportunity of Natsume holding him up to hop onto his head, pecking at his messy bedhead, probably trying to calm him down, as if saying he doesn’t have to cry. It has the opposite effect, only making Natsume cry harder; but those aren’t sad tears. The morning sun shines on his face, and through the wet drops sliding down his face, and sometimes getting caught in his mouth, Natsume smiles.

—

Natsume lies on the fluffy rug of their living room on one of the days Sora decided he wanted to fly around instead of staying in, his mom reading a book while he plays with her familiar, squishing his soft paws as if they were a pillow. No wild animal would ever let someone do something as carefree as that without probably biting their heads off, but the panther was never a wild animal, and he had just as big of a role in raising Natsume as his parents did.

“Mommy?” He calls her, still playing with the soft paws. His mom hums back, signalling for him to go on. “Could I make Sora my familiar too, like Occhan? Can you do that to wild animals?”

“You can, dear,” she replies, closing her book. She gets off the couch to sit next to Natsume on the rug, threading her fingers through his long hair. “Not every witch can do it, because you need loooots of power, but you can.”

Natsume nods his head in acknowledgement, furrowing his eyebrows as if in deep thought.

“Do you say this because you want to make Sora your familiar?”

“Yeah,” he drops the panther’s paw, looking up at his mom, “I don’t wanna say bye-bye to Sora again.”

His mother smiles at him, bringing him closer so they can snuggle. “I’m sure you’ll be able to. Sora doesn’t look like he’d want to say bye-bye either,” she says, kissing the top of his head, “you’re my son, after all, you just have to let your powers grow.”

—

Natsume spends a year reading books about familiars. He grew up with his education focused on witchcraft, but before Sora, he never really paid much attention to the books that taught about the history of witches and their familiars, and the methods through which they acquired them. He learned a lot since he had the idea to make Sora his familiar, but with each new book, it became more clear how it’d take him a while to get there. He had time, of course. Thankfully, Sora had a long lifespan among small birds, but he’s only eleven, and it still made him uneasy that he’s unable to do so yet.

Surrounded by books, Natsume sits on his bed while he reads the one in front of him. Sora had left in the morning, probably to fly around the woods, or to hunt for a snack — God knows how many insects he had brought home that Natsume never wanted to see in his life. So alone, all he can do is read, since he’s not even close to reading all the books his mother gave him. Sadly, his concentration is easily broken by a bird’s loud chirping, though he doesn’t mind it much when he knows exactly who it belongs to.

“Welcome back, Sora.” He says, lifting his head to look at the open window.

What he sees is terrifying.

“ _SORA?!_ ” Natsume shouts, jumping off the bed. One of Sora’s wings is missing enough feathers that his skin is visible, and there’s an ugly, bleeding scratch on the top of his head. “W-what happened?” he asks, like Sora could explain somehow, instead of only weakly chirping back.

Natsume is still too inexperienced to be any good at healing magic, so he runs to his bathroom to get some cotton pads and an antiseptic, too agitated to even think about calling his mom to help. He runs back, Sora now having moved from the windowsill to his desk, rubbing the top of his head with his non-hurt wing to try to get the blood off.

“W-wait, Sora, lemme help,” he says, and thankfully, Sora stops, looking back at him.

He holds a cotton pad in his trembling hand, carefully pressing it to the top of Sora’s head, who chirps angrily and dodges the pad on instinct. “No, wait, stay put—” Natsume holds him in place with his other hand, but Sora doesn’t stop squirming. He’s at least able to clean all the blood away rather quickly, but when he lets go to apply the antiseptic on a fresh pad, Sora flies away, perching himself on top of the bed canopy.

“Sora, come back here!” Natsume tries to jump to reach him, but the canopy bars are just way too high for him to reach, even if he were to step on top of his bed — which he tries, unsuccessfully. “It’s gonna get worse if I can’t help you!”

Sora chirps angrily at him again, clearly not liking the idea of whatever Natsume wants to do with him. The whole noisy ordeal of Natsume’s continued efforts to get to Sora, which includes trying to climb his canopy through the side and falling down spectacularly, is enough to bring his mother to his door.

“What’s going on—” she starts as she enters the room, stopping on her tracks when she sees the mess Natsume had made while trying to get Sora, who had also flown to his bookshelf instead when Natsume got just a bit too close. “Natsume?”

“Mommy, Sora won’t stay in place!” he says, jumping on spot to try and find a place where he can get a good grip to reach the top of the bookshelf where Sora is, “He’s hurt! I gotta help him! But he keeps flying away!”

“Honey,” his mother comes close to him, putting a hand on his shoulders to stop him from jumping, but it doesn’t do much, “honey, calm down first.” She grips him more forcefully, this time, effectively keeping him in place. Natsume turns back at her, pouting and with watery eyes. “You’ll only scare him more like that, he won’t come down if you keep making a ruckus.”

“But, but—”

“Look, extend your hand in his direction,” she tells him, lifting his arm carefully so they won’t startle Sora further, “Sora-kun, come down for a bit. We promise we won’t hurt you.”

Sora finally stops looking like he’s desperate to run away, instead dropping his head to the side in wonder. He only looks for a while, and Natsume grows more impatient with each passing second, but his mom is there, so he doesn’t want to act all bratty. Soon enough, although not enough for Natsume himself, he decides that it’s okay and jumps down onto Natsume’s waiting hand as if he wasn’t avoiding him just a minute ago.

“See?” his mom says, patting his head, “Now let’s take care of those bruises, okay?”

“Okay, mommy.”

—

Natsume’s glad that on that first time, his mother properly taught him how to deal with an injured Sora, and how to treat him as well, otherwise, he’d be in much more stress than he is now.

Not that his stress level is low, by no means being greeted by Sora with a fresh injury every few weeks is stress free, no matter how good he has become at treating them. With each new one, Natsume gets more and more scared that one day, Sora will hurt himself so badly he won’t come back for Natsume to care for him. He can’t lock him up and keep him from the world — his mother taught him on that very first time that Sora should be free to do as he wants. _But if what he wants is getting him hurt, shouldn’t I change that, then?_ Is what he thinks more often than he’d like to admit, each time having to shoot it down with the teaching of free nature, each time the thought getting louder.

With each new bruise, each new drop of blood, each newly fallen feather, each new time Sora stays for too long outside, Natsume grows more worried, more desperate. Sora’s his only friend, and just imagining losing him is more than Natsume’s twelve-year-old brain can take, much less his heart.

The only way he could find of not going against his mother’s teaching is by doing something she had approved of, instead; making Sora his familiar. No young witch was ever able to successfully bind a wild animal to them, and even among strong, older ones, it was still quite rare. Even if Natsume is the son of the most powerful witch in their country, he himself is still too weak to seal a contract with a being that wasn’t meant to be sealed in the first place. Every single book he read got him to the same answer: he needed power.

A natural way of getting power is to simply let it grow within you as you age, honing it slowly with the passage of time. Other, quicker, unnatural ways, were things the usual witch wouldn’t try — why would they need to, if they could just give time to time. The unusual witch, however, very much used those means, but not always with good intentions, and even fewer times with good results.

But that’s all Natsume has, and he’s not waiting decades to finally be successful in linking Sora to him, so he could protect him in more ways than merely closing his room’s window; that’s not the kind of binding he wants to subject Sora to. He just wants for him to not get hurt, not to lock him away from the world he loves. So Natsume reads, and reads, he reads about the witches that sought powers they couldn’t hone, reads about spells involving things he hadn’t even heard of before, reads of faithful days and the right seasons and weather and skies. Reads, until he finds something that might work.

It takes him months, excruciating months, but he finds what he needs, eventually. It takes weeks of preparations and research to find just the right time, not to talk about trying to do all that behind his mom’s back; he’s not sure what he’s doing is something she would approve of, and doesn’t want to find out in case she tries to stop him.

So on the night he’s set to perform the spell, Natsume lets his mom put him to bed like she does every night, and he waits until all the lights inside the house are out to jump from under his covers, pulling the bag under his bed with the necessary tools for the ritual. He wraps himself on one of his warmest cloaks, slinging the bag over his shoulder before opening his balcony door. Sora chirps inquisitively at that, making Natsume stop in his tracks to look back at him.

“It’s okay, Sora,” he tells the bird, carefully stroking his head with one finger, “I’ll be back soon.”

Sora doesn’t chirp again, but he does bump his head on Natsume’s finger, seeking his touch. Natsume wishes he could just go to bed and stroke Sora’s feathers until he falls asleep, but this isn’t the night for it. So he turns his back to Sora and goes out onto his balcony. From there, it’s not that hard to find a way down; he only needs to jump from the rail onto the tree branch next to it and descend as slowly as he can through the trunk. His feet hit the grass with a quiet thump, and he immediately starts his brisk walk to the forest behind his house. He knows of a clearing right in the middle of it, and that’s where he’s meant to go.

It’s even colder inside the forest than it was on the edge of it, and Natsume shivers, glad that he thought to bring his cloak with him; but under it, his thin nightgown does little to keep him warm, nevermind his exposed legs. He quickens his pace, just short of running, wanting to find the clearing before he gets permanent frostbite. He almost trips on several tree stumps on his way, but is lucky enough to not actually fall down on any of them. _Just a bit more, just a bit more. You can’t go back until you do it_ , he tells himself repeatedly to give him the courage to keep moving forward.

When the tall, leafy sky of the forest stays behind him, Natsume can once again see properly what’s around him. The clearing is wide, surrounded by trees, and he walks until he reaches the middle of it before kneeling on the grass, damp from the cold humidity of the night and prickling his exposed knees. The backpack hits the ground as well, and from it, he pulls out all the tools he brought.

First, he uses the black ink and brush he brought with him to paint a small summoning circle on the grass, no wider than the width of his legs joined together. He then puts a silver bowl right in front of him in the centre of the circle, and inside it, he drops two sprigs of monkshood, aligning them side by side instead of on top of each other, and lastly, he picks up a sharp knife from inside the bag. Natsume looks up then, to stare at the full moon shining upon him. Tonight is a special night, a blue moon that only happens every two-and-a-half years, and he considers himself lucky to have found out about it only months before the next one. He holds in his breath and starts the spell.

_In this blue-lit night, I invoke you from your dwelling_

_Your assistance I shall use for our souls unite as one_

_My body becomes yours just as yours becomes mine_

_Connected we are, by mind, by heart, joined in one by moonlight_

Natsume uses the knife, then, to cut a thin line through his palm, blood dripping from his hand to dye the flowers beneath it in red, smoke emerging from it as if they were set on fire, smelling more like burnt skin than burnt plants. He makes a face at it, but can’t afford to stop now, powering through the putrid scent to continue the summoning.

_With this blood, I melt your shackles, with this offering I summon you_

_So your power runs through my veins as mine will run through yours_

_I seal this contract to bring you forth_

As soon as he finishes those last words, the circle around the bowl glows a dark red, and the light breeze from before turns into gushing curtains of wind, strong enough to even undo Natsume’s braids, his now untied, flowing hair half-covering his face. When he drops the knife to try to get it away from his eyes, he sees a silver blur flying away, which he confirms to be the bowl he had used, the circle now empty, and glowing even more. From it, a black, slimy mass starts emerging, and Natsume uses all the self-control he has not to scream.

He falls backwards; he doesn’t want to run from it, since he’s the one who summoned it, but he also doesn’t want to get trapped by whatever _that_ is. The more the mass grows, the lighter Natsume’s head becomes. When the growth stops, the mass starts taking shape, first four legs, and then a body, extending so the end becomes a flowing tail. Natsume’s vision blurs as dark slime becomes fur, and as the figure gains a face, glowing, gold eyes is the last thing he sees before passing out.

—

When his consciousness comes back to him, Natsume can feel the warm light of the morning sun on his face, and something soft under his head. Then, it all comes back to him, what he did last night, the ritual, the black form staring back at him. Natsume’s eyes snap open, and instead of the sky, what he sees is a face; a human one.

He screams — not because he sees a person, but because why is a man he never met before in the forest with him, and when he backs away from him, he notices he was lying on his lap the entire time. “W-w-who?” He stutters, back against a tree trunk he had hit when trying to put some space between them.

“Oh my, you should know who I am already,” the man says, looking surprised at Natsume’s question, “weren’t you the one to summon me?”

Natsume squints, not quite getting him, and then it dawns on him; that’s the being he summoned last night, the terrifying wolf that had come out of his summoning circle — instead, there’s nothing wolf-like about him at all. In Natsume’s eyes, he looks every bit as human as one can be, his appearance as non-threatening as a pet dog. He’s probably as nice of a person as he looks like, Natsume guesses, because when he catches a glimpse of the hand he had cut before, he can see a handkerchief wrapped around it.

“U-Uhm,” he stutters once again, not quite sure of what he’s even trying to say, “y-your name…?”

“What a cute way to introduce yourself,” the man replies with a giggle, but doesn’t really answer Natsume’s question. “I’m sure if you think hard enough, you’ll remember it.”

Natsume squints, he doesn’t really follow this conversation at all. What does he _mean_ by remembering his name? They never introduced themselves, he’s pretty sure he passed out as soon as Tsumugi took form anyway— wait. _Tsumugi?_ How does he even _know_ that name? Is that his mind making something up for him in place of nothingness, or does he really know of a name he never heard, for a person he never knew?

“...Tsu-Tsumugi?” He tries out loud, to confirm that he’s right.

“That’s right!” Tsumugi smiles at him, looking pleased. “We’re bonded, after all, Natsume-chan, so there’s no need for introductions to know each other’s names.”

With that realisation, Natsume’s eyes widen. So he did it! He managed to summon a werewolf, to bind them to each other! He’s so excited he hurries back close to Tsumugi, looking up at him while beaming with excitement.

“So̴ we s͡hare ͢our p҉ow̧er͜ now?” He asks, and instantly closes his mouth. What _was_ that? Why did his voice sound like that, like it barely came from him? Like he was casting a spell with nothing but the mundane words inside his head.

“Ah, I’d be careful with that.” Tsumugi looks troubled, looking down at Natsume. “Now that you have my power within you, every word you say can be magic, Natsume-chan.”

Natsume frowns; he likes the idea of having that power, but being unable to speak without casting a spell seems like a huge bother. Though, now that he thinks about it, his words before that sentence weren’t magical; they just sounded like how he’d speak every day. Well, minus the stutter… He blinks, and feels like a light bulb just turned on inside his head _That’s it!_ If speaking normally made his words magic, then all he has to do is speak differently than how he’s used to, forcefully changing his speech. Natsume thinks about it for a few seconds, trying to figure out what’s the best way to get around the magic words, without having to almost bite his tongue every time.

“T-then…” he starts, stuttering again, which isn’t great for what he’s trying to do, “if I speak like thIS, there should be no problem, riGHT?” 

“You figured out a way around it so fast!” Tsumugi pats Natsume’s head, looking more than pleased with that solution. “You’re really talented, as expected of the person who could summon me.”

When he drops his hand to his side again, Natsume follows it, noticing a red pattern around his pinky finger. It’s not a ring, he doesn’t think; there’s no band to support it. Instead, it looks like a mark etched on his skin. Natsume lifts Tsumugi’s hand, needing two of his small ones to support one of his, and brings it closer to inspect the mark, curious to what it might be. Tsumugi doesn’t resist the movement, only looking at him like someone would look at a kid being cute, which in his eyes, Natsume probably is.

He keeps looking, moving his head to admire how the mark seemed to move, changing according to the angle he was at like, like one of those holograms he’s seen on shiny cards his mom would bring home sometimes, saying children quite liked those. Well, she was right, Natsume _does_ like it a lot, it looks beautiful. He’s very entertained, until, from one angle, he notices a shining glint come from _his_ hand instead.

“Oh!” Natsume exclaims, looking at his own pinky now, “I have one as wELL!”

“That’s our seal, so we have matching ones. They’ll be here for as long as we’re bonded to each other.” Tsumugi explains.

“How long is it gonna BE…” Natsume takes a pause, not sure what to call Tsumugi. He knows his name, but it doesn’t really feel right to call someone older than him with no honorifics. His mommy didn’t raise a rude boy, “...Tsumugi-niiSAN?”

“Haha, that’s the first time someone called me that.” His cheeks turn pink, and Natsume is in awe at making such a powerful creature blush like that, even with no magic at all. “Well, I thought you knew, since you were the one to perform the spell, Natsume-chan.” No, he doesn’t know, sadly, so he just keeps looking at Tsumugi until he finishes what he’s saying. “We’re essentially bonded for the rest of your life.”

“Oh.”

Apparently, he didn’t do as much research as he thought he did on the subject. So they’re stuck to each other for _life_? Or, well, Natsume’s life, he’s pretty sure werewolves are immortal, anyway. He can’t say he’s troubled about it, though. He likes Tsumugi well enough so far, so there’s no reason to complain.

“CoOL!” He smiles up at Tsumugi, who mirrors his back. “Hey, Tsumugi-niisan, how powerful are yOU?”

“Uhm… not much?” Natsume's smile drops, so Tsumugi hurries to correct himself, “A-ah, don’t take it the wrong way! Only incredibly powerful people can summon me to begin with, and they get even more powerful afterwards! I’m just… not much by myself.”

Natsume hums, he doesn’t quite get it, but it doesn’t matter as long as he has the power he needs to bind Sora to him. Talking about Sora, Natsume hopes he’s happy to get another friend; he’s a pretty sociable bird, and minded none of the visits they got, so there’s a high chance he will. Probably. 

He’s about to tell Tsumugi his plans, but as soon as he opens his mouth to do so, the trees around them start shaking, and a flurry of birds fly from where they were previously resting on the unmoving branches. Natsume squeaks, jumping onto Tsumugi’s lap — who yelps at the sudden movement, barely able to keep himself from falling down — to grip his shirt, seeking comfort from the nearest adult when he has _no_ idea of what’s happening.

“ _NATSUME!_ ” Comes a voice from within the forest, as loud as if there were dozens of speakers right above him. It’s a voice Natsume recognises.

“MomMY…?” He calls back, looking for her between the trees.

Right after his reply, instead of a person running for him like someone normal would do, his mother materialises in front of him in a flurry of leaves, looking as distressed as he’s ever seen her. With her long red hair barely brushed, and still on her nightgown, it looks like she jumped out of bed straight into the woods to look for him.

“Natsume, honey, I was so worried—” she seems ready to jump on him and pull him into her arms, until she notices who exactly is holding her son, “ _You._ ”

“Oh! So it’s your kid, Maya-san! Guess I should’ve known.” Tsumugi doesn’t seem surprised, or even bothered by her very threatening stare. Actually, now that he knows who exactly made the threes shake and suddenly appeared in front of them, he looks even calmer than before.

Natsume’s glad it’s not at him she’s mad at, for running away from home in the middle of the night, leaving nothing behind but an open window. But more than that, he’s quite curious about how they even know each other to begin with. He has to calm her down before asking questions, though.

“Mommy, don’t be mad, pleaSE?” He says, making his mom turn his attention back to him.

“Oh no, honey,” she finally comes close, kneeling on the ground and pulling Natsume from Tsumugi’s lap onto hers, “Mommy’s not mad at you.” She brushes his hair away from his face, kissing his forehead affectionately.

“Not ME!” Natsume doesn’t fight to get away from her hold, but has to wiggle a little to be able to point back at Tsumugi, showing who he’s talking about. “Don’t be mad at Tsumugi-niiSAN.”

“ _Nii-san_.” Ah, that didn’t help at all. She looks just as angry as she had been before, if not more. Well, only at Tsumugi, though; expression softens as if a frame had moved the moment she looks down at her son, “Honey, why don’t you explain to mommy why he’s here?”

“So! I! Uhm!” Oh boy, he doesn’t even know how to explain everything he’s done. Steal from her stash of flowers? Check. Read books he wasn’t supposed to? Check. Perform a spell no common, much less young witch would ever be crazy enough to do? Check. With so much, he decides to keep it simple, “I summoned him, and now we’re bondED…?”

She only hums back at him, pulling his hand up to inspect the bond mark. “And you did that because?”

“Because I wanted to make Sora my familiar quickly, to stop him from getting hURT… so I needed power for thAT…”

“So you decided to summon a werewolf, not just any werewolf, but those who are imprisoned for their power until a witch sets them free, and ended up with him here, and now you have so much power within you you can’t speak properly, all because you wanted Sora not to get hurt?”

“Yes…” Hearing it said back to him like that feels like she’s scolding him, even if her tone hasn’t changed at all. “I’m sorry, momMY…” He drops his head on her chest, clutching the front of her nightgown. Hopefully, if he’s cute enough, she’ll forgive him sooner.

“It’s okay, honey, as long as you understand.” She kisses the top of his head, hugging him closer. “And maybe tell mommy beforehand next time you want to try a new spell.”

“You sure became a wonderful mother.” Tsumugi chirps in, reminding both of them he’s still there. 

“I’m still not done with you.” she glares at him, “We’re going back home now, and _then_ you and I are going to have a talk.”

“You’re just as fierce as ever as well~” He smiles, seemingly unbothered, “It’s nice to see you again, Maya-san.”

—

Even with all his words being their own spell, and his power multiplied tenfold when joined with Tsumugi’s, Natsume still found it difficult to properly hone his magic. He can now do many things he couldn’t before the forest summoning a year past, but persuasion enchantments and better magic circles aren’t enough to do what he needs to. So he goes back to studying, and reading half the time when the other time is spent on magic practice, guided by Tsumugi on his trial and error of new spells — the man might not be a witch himself, but he knew things about magic that even the bookworm Natsume didn’t. It comes with age, he thinks, it’s hard not to know so much when you’ve been alive for enough generations that your name might even appear on history books.

Honestly, Natsume’s more charmed by that than he’d like to admit. His mother always took a very hands-off approach when it came to him learning magic, because she believed Natsume figuring things out by himself would make him a better witch. She wasn’t wrong; having to always think on his own and find solutions without leaning on someone else made Natsume grow stronger than he would’ve if someone had steered him all the way through. Because of that, he never really noticed that it’s not _that_ bad to have someone hold your hand and lead you step by step in the right direction. He learnt that through Tsumugi.

Tsumugi was kind, always answering all of Natsume’s questions to the best of his ability, staying up late with him through his reading marathons, encouraging him with caring words and gestures with every step forward he took. He felt a deep connection between them, which might be because they’re bonded for life, but Natsume liked to think of it as something more; not because he didn’t appreciate their bond, but because there’s only so much his thirteen-year-old self could take of a nice, handsome person treating him gently without developing feelings for them, and he doesn’t think those are due to their contract. Even Sora liked him, looking pleased to perch himself on Tsumugi’s head during the day almost as much as he did on Natsume’s, and he trusted Sora’s judgment.

Natsume never really had a chance to fall for someone before; apart from his family, all of his social interactions were very short. He has a great memory, but not even he could remember most of the faces he’s seen going through their door and leaving on the same day. At most, he can tell apart the members of their coven, but it wasn’t like he got close to any of them. So he never found out exactly how having a crush is, but he did read books about it in the eventual time he wasn’t studying witchcraft, and the bubbly sensation inside of him whenever he saw Tsumugi seemed just like those stories.

He’s glad, somehow, that Tsumugi doesn’t see him the same way as Natsume does. To Tsumugi, he’s nothing but a bright, cute child — one that he was quite surprised to find out _wasn’t_ a girl —, so that means Natsume could take advantage of that fact to do pretty much whatever he wanted. He could sit on Tsumugi’s lap while they read together, or cuddle him to bed in both wolf and human form, since Tsumugi was more than happy to just turn into whatever Natsume asked him to. He could even ask for head pats and forehead kisses, which he enjoyed a lot.

It’s on one of those cold winter nights, where even though he’d love the fluff of a wolf’s fur to warm him, Natsume asked Tsumugi to stay human to hug him, that he takes just a bit longer to fall asleep. Well, by a bit, it means that the clock next to his bed reads past midnight, and both Sora and Tsumugi are so deep in sleep they probably wouldn’t wake up even if Natsume were to stomp around the room. It’s rare for him to be awake while Tsumugi sleeps, instead of the other way around, and Natsume appreciates their closeness now, taking notes of every single detail of Tsumugi’s face in front of him.

“Tsumugi-niiSAN?” Natsume calls, quietly, wanting to confirm that he’s really asleep.

No answer of movement comes from Tsumugi, so he accepts that it’s okay for him to move. Natsume shuffles a bit closer, carefully resting a hand on Tsumugi’s face; his hand is so small that it barely covers one cheek. He’s warm even when the night is so cold, and Natsume really likes that about him. He moves his stare down to Tsumugi’s lips, slightly open as he unconsciously breathes through them in his sleep. He wonders, then, how it must feel to kiss someone, and although he’s not really sure he knows how to even do it, to begin with, he _really_ wants to try it out. Not when Tsumugi is awake, though; Natsume doubts he’d even take him seriously, probably only brushing it off as a joke coming from a kid. But he doesn’t have to ask if Tsumugi’s asleep.

Shuffling even closer, until he feels Tsumugi’s breath on his face, Natsume gathers his courage to do it. _It’s just a peck, adults do much more than that, you can do it_ , he tells himself as a form of encouragement, and decides to just move on with it before he cowers away from it. Natsume only presses so much as to feel Tsumugi’s lips against his own, the brush of their mouths so soft it feels like feathers on his skin. He can barely keep that closeness for a few seconds without combusting, so that fluttery feeling is short-lived, though a different one starts bubbling up inside Natsume when he moves away. His cheeks feel like they’re burning, so he’s pretty sure he’s blushing so hard his face must be the same colour as his hair, and although there’s no one awake to even see it, Natsume still feels bashful enough that he hides his face by pressing it against Tsumugi’s chest.

 _I did it!_ He thinks, his expression going from an embarrassed one to a smile even though his face is still hot. _I managed to do it! And it was really nice!_ A giggle escapes his mouth, and he shakes in excitement. The movement prompts Tsumugi to close his arms tighter against Natsume, not really awake, probably just his still asleep brain trying to keep him from moving so it doesn’t have to wake up. Natsume stays still after that, not wanting to actually disturb Tsumugi’s sleep, and it’s about time that he falls asleep as well, so he closes his eyes to try his best to do so.

As he falls into unconsciousness, the only sound he can hear is the loud thumping of his heart against his chest.

—

Natsume’s happiness is short-lived.

While focusing on his new feelings for Tsumugi brought him a lot of joy, it also made the fall from such a high place hurt so much more. He forgot, lost in bliss, why exactly he had summoned Tsumugi to begin with, and why he worked so hard to become more powerful in the first place.

It’s a few weeks before his fourteenth birthday when Sora doesn’t come back home.

Since Tsumugi had come into the picture, Sora was less prone to just wander outside all day as he did before; he seemed happy to spend his time in their company. At most, he’d stay a few hours in the woods every few days, but he’d always come back before nighttime, giving Natsume the peace of mind to fall asleep without worrying if he was safe or not. Because of that, he even got hurt way less often.

Sora doesn’t give him that piece of mind then. He left for the forest in the early afternoon of the day before that, and when nighttime came, he didn’t show up at all. Natsume tried to call for him from his balcony, in case he was close, and even kept the window open the entire night, unable to fall asleep until he knew where Sora was; but nothing came of it. Sora didn’t come back.

After twenty-four hours without seeing him, Natsume grew frantic. He couldn’t sit still, just merrily waiting for Sora to appear again— he doesn’t even want to imagine it, but in the case Sora was unable to come back, in the case he was badly hurt, he _had_ to go after him. Still, the woods behind his house were too vast for him to go searching for a single bird lost between the trees with nothing to guide him but sunlight and maybe a wolf’s ability to follow scents. He needed something better.

Tsumugi helps him find a tracking spell on one of the book stacks in his room, and he draws the magic circle directly on his bedroom’s floor, not even bothering to take his matters outside. Thankfully, he had a feather Sora dropped on his cage while grooming himself, and that was good enough for the spell to work. The feather rose to the air, and all Natsume had to do was follow it, again with Tsumugi’s help— the quicker he could chase it, the sooner he’d find Sora, so he rode on Tsumugi’s back into the woods.

It’s only a few minutes of chasing until the feather drops on the ground, right against a tree trunk. Natsume jumps from Tsumugi’s back, looking around, searching for a familiar yellow head.

“SoRA?” He calls, head turning from side to side. 

He hears, then, a small chirp. Tsumugi follows it immediately, shoving his face inside of a bush. Natsume goes after him, looking beyond the leaves to see the small bird inside of it. “ _Sora_.” He has to gulp down tears, falling to his knees to hold Sora in his hands so they can go back home.

Then he sees. The reason Sora didn’t fly home by himself.

Sora’s left wing is bent out of shape, clearly broken. On the underside of his belly, Natsume can also see a red bloodstain, though it doesn’t seem to be dripping blood anymore. Sora’s also missing enough feathers on his back that Natsume can see his skin, and the whole sight makes him want to throw up— not because he finds Sora disgusting, but because only the thought of what could’ve led to this makes his stomach churn. Sora still drags himself forward, undeniably straining himself, only to jump onto Natsume’s hands.

Natsume lifts him closer, careful not to hurt Sora more than he already is as he cuddles him against his chest. “I’m sorRY, Sora.” He doesn’t even know what he’s apologising for. Maybe because it’s his fault that he still isn’t able to protect Sora. That his powerlessness allows for him to get hurt. That he didn’t search for Sora sooner.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s crying until he feels Tsumugi’s snout ruffling his hair, trying to comfort him, making him notice that he needs comforting because his face is wet, and tears are pooling on the ground in front of him. Natsume feels tired and defeated, but he can’t allow himself to stay put; he has to take Sora home now, and tend to his wounds as quickly as possible. He gathers whatever strength he has to hoist himself back on Tsumugi’s back so he can take them home. The movement makes Sora chirp unhappily, but there’s not much Natsume can do about that.

“It͢'s ̧gon̕na͢ ̕be okay, So̢r҉a̸. ̴I̵'ll ta͘ke̛ ͝caŗe̛ of ̷y̨ou.̨ I͡'̧l̵l͏ ̴d̕o̵ ̶b͟e͢tte̢r̢, ̢so yo̕u͘ ̨won͏'̢t͏ ̨ge͠t h͏urt̨ anymo͜re.̢” he says through his tears, magic oozing from his voice, “I̵ p̶r̕omis͢e.̧”

—

As much as Natsume wanted to perform the ritual as quickly as possible, he knew it’d be an impossible task with Sora still hurt. Thankfully, he studied enough healing magic to be able to help Sora through the process, so he wouldn’t get any scars and hopefully heal quicker, but he couldn’t just make injuries go away with a poof— that’s simply not how nature worked, and he couldn’t defy it. So he waits a month, two, three; it takes an excruciating six months before Sora is fine again, and Natsume’s lucky it was even that quick. That, and the fact that Sora didn’t try to fly away while hurt, so he didn’t have to deal with any added injuries to the ones already there. Every single day of those six months Natsume kept practising, from the moment he woke up to when he went to sleep, so when the time came, he could be prepared. He could be ready to bind Sora to him. 

That day finally, _finally_ arrives. Natsume sits down on the stone floor of the basement, a newly drawn circle right in front of him. Tsumugi stands behind him, quietly watching the process. In the months between Sora’s disappearance and now, Natsume barely had time to pay any attention to his feelings for Tsumugi, the desperation for when Sora got better taking every space inside his mind. In a way, that was good; it meant fewer distractions when studying and practising, since his heart didn’t beat as fast any time Tsumugi was affectioned to him, not allowing for any distractions from his goal.

As a last step on the circle, Natsume stabs a needle on the point of his finger, just enough so a few drops of blood fall right in the centre of it. Then, he calls for Sora, who was previously perched on his shoulder, to jump onto his hand, so he can put him just shy of touching the blood. “Stay there, alRIGHT?” Sora chirps in his response, which Natsume takes as an affirmation.

He crawls back a bit, so he’s not actually on top of the circle when he starts the incantation. With the power he holds in his voice now, the spell is simpler than it would be for a normal witch, the air around them turning chilly just after a couple of words. By the end of a sentence, a strong wind blows away the fire on the candles positioned on each side of the circle. A younger Natsume would feel scared of that, but he’s grown since then. He can’t allow himself to feel fear at a moment as important as this. He doesn’t falter at any point, powering through each and every word, feelings the way magic envelops the entire room. The circle grows a dark blue hue, the paint blurring to the inside like blood sliding down a canvas, moving towards the middle. When it gets there, just around where Sora is, it starts moving upwards.

And that’s when everything goes wrong.

Sora flies away, escaping from the blue mass with a scared chirp. Natsume’s blood runs cold; that’s not how it’s supposed to go. Sora should stay there, not only because that’s what he was told to, but because after the incantation began, he _shouldn’t_ be able to leave until it was done. But he did. Which means that Natsume must’ve done something horribly, terribly wrong in his preparations. Sora lands on top of a tall cabinet, right next to the corner of a wall and as far as he can from the still growing, now slime-looking mass.

“ _Natsume-chan!_ ” Tsumugi calls for him, but his voice sounds far, far away. Natsume feels stuck in place, unable to stop looking.

The mass starts taking shape, but that doesn’t make it any prettier. First, it turns into a tall, skinny, humanoid looking body. From the top, the head takes more of a dry skull shape than that of an alive human, and the hands grow into long, sharp claws, three on each side. Two glowing, blue eyes stare at him when it’s done, and Natsume stares right back. The demon — Natsume is sure it’s a demon now, seeing it in front of him — starts crawling closer, slowly, almost unsure. Natsume tries to reach out to it, but before he can, he feels someone pulling him away.

“Natsume-chan, _stay back_ ,” Tsumugi says, voice stern, holding Natsume between his arms. “You shouldn’t just reach out to a demon like that!”

“B͞ut̛ ̶I s͜um͟m̸one͘d hi͘m!” Natsume tries to reason, squirming to get away from Tsumugi’s hold. The demon stops moving when it reaches the edge of the circle. Now, it only looks in Natsume’s direction. Waiting. “Look̴! I̶t s̢t̶o̧p͡p̢ed̛! It's ̴w҉ai̧tin͝g fo͡r̶ m͘e!̷”

“You don’t know if it’s waiting for you just to eat you!”

"It _w҉o҉n͡'t͞_!̨ L̵et̶ ͡go o̸f͘ ̴me!!" Sometimes Natsume hates how his magic simply doesn’t work on Tsumugi, who doesn’t let go of him at all. Natsume continues squirming, but he’s small, and physically weak, so it’s basically useless to do so— he won’t stop trying though. The mass continues observing them, stuck in place, until something else catches its attention.

Sora flies down from the cabinet, seemingly no longer scared. Natsume hadn’t noticed that until he sees Sora land on top of the mass’s head.

“ _Sora-kun?_ ” Tsumugi’s surprise at that makes his hold weaker, so Natsume can finally break away from him. He crawls quickly in the demon’s direction, who reaches its hand to Natsume. He grabs it, and then the world turns black like an explosion of darkness. He can’t feel, see, or hear anything, nor himself or the world around him, only the sensation of falling— but he doesn’t feel the ground.

It lasts for a few seconds, or at least it feels like so for Natsume. He blinks, once, twice, until light returns to his vision, and he can see what’s around him again. He’s lying on the floor, like he passed out, and from where he is he can see Tsumugi’s legs and Sora standing in front of his face, pecking at his nose repeatedly.

“Wait, Sora, I’m UP.” Natsume extends a finger to push him away carefully. Sora stops, moving away a bit so Natsume can get up.

When he does, the first thing he notices is Tsumugi’s scrunched up expression. That, and the fact that he’s not actually looking at Natsume. He turns to the side, in the direction Tsumugi’s facing, and there, on the spot the black mass used to be, now sits a young boy. He looks only a few years older than Natsume, and if it weren’t for the dark horns protruding from his head, and the _very_ revealing clothing, he could even be mistaken for a regular human teenager.

“Hello.” The boy greets him. He doesn’t smile, his expression completely serious. 

“HeLLO…?” Natsume greets back, a bit unsure of what to say. “Y-your naME...?”

“Wow, it’s surprising you were able to summon me without even knowing that beforehand.” The demon stares at Natsume like he sees nothing but a child. Which, fair to say, Natsume pretty much is. “I’m Hokuto. And you’re my master now.”

Natsume’s eyes shine in amazement. He might’ve failed at binding Sora, and he _should_ be angry and disappointed about that, but he can’t say he’s mad at being able to summon a demon by himself. He’s too excited to really mind. “Your mastER!” He exclaims, crawling in Hokuto’s direction. “That’s _so_ coOL! I gotta tell momMY!” 

“Mommy?” Hokuto asks, intrigued.

With no explanation or answer, Natsume grabs the demon’s hand, taking him up the basement’s stairs, ignoring Tsumugi’s calls of his name, and Hokuto’s complaints of being literally dragged by a young boy. He reaches the top, quickly running to the living room where he saw his mother reading before he went downstairs to perform the ritual.

“MomMY!” He says to get her attention before even entering the room, making her turn her head to see why exactly he was so excitedly calling for her.

“Yes, honey?”

“Look, loOK!” Natsume finishes dragging Hokuto into the room, the abrupt stop making him almost trip and fall to the ground.

She squints when she sees Hokuto standing behind Natsume, but unlike when she saw Tsumugi that time at the forest, she doesn’t seem especially angry at him. Her own familiar, who’s laying on the sofa by her side, lifts his head to look at them, seeming _very_ interested. “And that is?”

“My new famiLIAR!” Natsume announces, a smile on his face. “I summoned him! His name is Hokuto!” He looks at Hokuto then, only to see him bearing an expression that is halfway between angry and scared. Natsume isn’t sure why that is, or what he sees in his mother to look afraid like that, so he turns back, thinking that maybe there’s something he didn’t notice, maybe his mother _is_ actually angry at him; she can be quite scary when she is, so it wouldn’t be surprising that even a demon would back away from her.

That’s not exactly it, he finds. Just as Natsume turns his head, the panther lifts himself from the sofa, immediately shapeshifting into his human form, one that Natsume is very used to seeing; although he much preferred to stay as a panther, he couldn’t communicate with anyone apart from Maya when he was transformed, so most times he’d assume a human form to talk be able to Natsume.

“ _HOCCHAN!_ ”

Hocchan?

“No way! Don’t come close!” Hokuto backs away in a hurry until his back hits a wall. There aren’t many places he can run to.

“Don’t be like that, Hocchan~ Your papa hasn’t seen you in so long!” 

_Oh_.

“Stop calling me by that nickname already! I’m not a baby!”

“But you’ll always be my darling Hocchan in my heart.” Seiya continues to come closer, trying to ruffle Hokuto’s hair, but the boy runs from him to the other corner of the room.

As they keep their bickering, Natsume looks back at his mom, who looks entirely unimpressed by the scene. “MomMY, did you know about hIM…?”

“Yes. I couldn’t not know, really, since Seiya never stops talking about his son whenever he has a chance.” She explains, closing the book on her lap and setting it aside. “It’s an impressive coincidence that that’s the demon you summoned. Though I’m not sure that’s what you were trying to do downstairs.”

Natsume’s face drops. “Ah, yES… I- I was trying to bind Sora, but I mesSED things up and summoned Hokuto instEAD.” He explains, the reality of his failed experiment finally dawning on him. He might’ve gained a new familiar, but that’s not what he was trying to do; and by failing that, he’s lost yet another day with Sora.

His mother seems understanding, opening her arms and inviting Natsume into a hug, which he accepts without a second thought. Maya holds him tight against her, kissing the top of his head. “You’re a great witch, honey, you just have to think about what you do a bit more. And maybe give time to time, before you do something that hurts you.”

He wishes he could agree with her, he wishes he could have the liberty of giving time to time, to care for his own well-being, to simply not hurry through processes in hopes of achieving something no one as young as he ever did; but that’s not possible. He’s unable to sit still, unable to wait, because each new day is a day closer to one where Natsume simply won’t see Sora coming back through his window ever again, and he doesn’t want to— he _can’t_ allow that to happen.

But there are some things he just shouldn’t tell his mom as well. So he won’t.

“Yes, MomMY.”

—

It’s on the night of Natsume’s fifteenth birthday that he gets initiated. His mother, the High Priestess, was the one to conduct the ritual, and all other witches on their coven are present for it. Although he never had much contact with them before, all of them seemed to know about the High Priestess’ son; a prodigy who managed to summon a werewolf before he hit puberty, and who by the age of fourteen had two contracts to his soul. They didn’t seem envious, which Natsume was glad for, but they were all _very_ curious, especially those that had never seen him before, unlike the ones that would visit his mother at home. 

The initiation and formal introduction to the coven meant that now Natsume needed to attend school, as all other young witches do. A much younger version of him used to dream about the time he could live a life like that, but going to school — although important, and definitely helpful in the grand scheme of his development as a witch — only meant less time he could spend holed up in his room reading old dusty books and trying different spells with a single goal in mind.

That, of course, meant that he wasn’t as eager to show up to class as the other witches were. Natsume tried, at first, to attend them diligently, but he was quick to realise that he already _knew_ most of what was being taught, and in the case he didn’t, he figured it out so easily he barely saw the point to attend classes only so he could hear teachers repeating back to him what he already learned months if not years ago. So he didn’t go.

Natsume made sure to make up for the fact that he only showed up to classes once a week by acing all his exams; his teachers couldn’t complain about his lack of attendance if he proved to them that he didn’t need to show up to learn proper magic. At least not at the stage he was at, compared to others his age. He spent the free time he gained searching through his school’s library, a whole new universe of books he was very grateful to have gotten access to.

Then, instead of taking them to his bedroom like he used to do when all the studying he did was at home, Natsume would put half a dozen of them in a bag, and take them with him to the forest, where he would read them and practice for as long as the sun stood in the sky. Tsumugi followed him every time, sitting down against a tree, reading his own book when he wasn’t busy watching Natsume practice or giving him advice. Hokuto, even though he was Natsume’s familiar, was given the choice of not following them if he simply did not want to, but considering his other option was to stay at home, he would much rather take on a cat form and sleep underneath the shade of a tree than to do the same on a comfortable bed, a clear preference of one being farthest from his father than the other.

Choosing a forest as his new practice location was the result of a quick realisation after Natsume’s last failed attempt at binding Sora; what he was lacking the most, and the reason he was so unsuccessful in his tries, is the fact that if he wanted to use nature, he should understand it, and work _with_ it. He needed to connect with it, to touch the leaves under him as he read, to feel the wind and pollen of the flowers surrounding him when he practised, to watch the sky change and the trees shake, all things he simply did not do while sitting on his bedroom floor.

The location also allowed him a reason to keep watch on Sora without needing to keep him locked away. As a result, Sora got hurt way less often, and Natsume was more than glad for that outcome. He wishes that could make him less anxious about the entire situation, and less desperate to achieve his goal, but every time he got too relaxed, he would wake up in cold sweat from yet another terrible nightmare, or notice Sora was missing a feather, and his mind would immediately spiral into dark thoughts he wishes he didn’t have.

In the months he spent practising out in the open, Natsume learnt to feel the life under his hands when he touched the dirt from which grass grew, and to understand the trees and plants and bushes on a level he could only describe as spiritual. He talked to them, not with words, but with heart, and they’d answer him. By the time he reached age fifteen, Natsume could make flowers grow from the ground he touched, and to sway the wind around him in the direction he so wished. All of those accompanied by excited applause from Tsumugi whenever he managed to make it happen successfully. It was wonderful, but he couldn’t really appreciate it.

By then, he had already been way too patient. He needed to learn to connect, and he did, so there’s no reason to wait for another second to execute the spell he’s been preparing for all this time, no matter how much the leaves would try to convince him that it was not yet time. To Natsume, it was way past time, and now, he didn’t have much left before he possibly lost Sora, or his own mind.

If the forest didn’t approve of it, though, Natsume doubts his mom would as well. So when he takes all the preparations for the ritual with him out the front door, he makes sure she doesn’t see him. This spell, just as the one he used to summon Tsumugi, is time-sensitive, although _much_ rarer. What Natsume needs for this spell is a total solar eclipse, and honestly, he doesn’t know if he’s simply lucky or if fate’s always on his side, that he found out about it only a few months before the next one would happen, and that the total coverage would happen in viewing from his area of the globe. Although that also made it so his coven would perform a ritual on that same day, and Natsume would have to apologise to his mother later for not showing up for it.

Natsume stops when he finds a spot in the forest where he can see the sky that isn’t a clearing; he needs to be as surrounded by nature as he can for it to work. The sun shines on him through an opening on the packed leaf-sky as Natsume opens his bag and starts taking out the materials for the ritual, arranging them side by side to make sure he has all that he needs, as if he hadn’t checked several times before he even left the house.

“Natsume-kun, are you sure you’re going to do this?” Tsumugi, who had been quiet in his wolf form while following him into the forest, transforms back to ask him that question. Through Natsume’s discovery and planning of the ritual, he constantly seemed uneasy and more anxious than normal about it, but Natsume never got to ask why; he didn’t want to know, if it meant he’d have to find another, longer, way. Which just meant Tsumugi just looked worried at him for weeks, vaguely voicing his concerns. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t suRE,” Natsume replies, brusquely. With how little help Tsumugi had been recently, and how he became more and more narrow-sighted on Sora, Natsume had slowly tossed away his rose-coloured glasses when it came to Tsumugi. Forget his childhood crush, he had no time for someone that wouldn’t assist him in achieving his goal, even if that someone was bound to his very soul. “Now shut up and help me draw this circle before the eclipse beGINS.”

“O-okay.” Tsumugi had, at least, gotten better at complying with Natsume’s wishes, if only to prevent him from snapping.

Hokuto, still in cat form, only watches from the side as they paint the grass black with a brush, Sora patiently sitting on top of his head as well. The circle isn’t too big, its size limited by the trees around it, but the intricate writings take quite a bit of time to make sure everything is right— Natsume can’t risk another failed attempt. After a good while, both him and Tsumugi are done with their respective sides, and now all Natsume has to do is set the items in place.

Four lit candles on the extremities of the circle, each right at the base of a tree, a bed of sunflowers at the centre, and lastly, Natsume calls for Sora, who obediently flies his way, pecking at Natsume’s hair. “Not here, SoRA,” he smiles, although he can’t quite see Sora on top of his head. He points to where the sunflowers are. “in the middle of the circle, okay?” 

Sora chirps, jumping from his head to the flower bed, looking back at Natsume inquisitively. “Good bOY.” Natsume tells him, backing away from the centre so he can sit on the edge of the circle.

The eclipse had started while they were preparing, and now only mere seconds are left before the sun is fully covered. Natsume hurries to prepare the last two things he needs for the ritual, picking up a string of crystals — one tree-agate in between two smoky quartz, to enhance his power and the success of the spell — and a knife. He’s cut himself so many times for different purposes he barely even feels it when the steel slashes through his palm, catching from the corner of his eyes how Tsumugi flinches at the action, more bothered about it than Natsume himself.

Just as Natsume puts his hand down, the blood gushing from his open wound directly staining the circle, the moon and the sun align, and the sky turns as dark as dawn. He knows he only has a few minutes before it ends, so he’s quick to begin the incantation. Weeks of rehearsing it make it so the words flow out of his mouth with ease, although the magic behind them is heavy on his tongue. The blood staining the circle turns gold in colour, dragging along the outer lines and then reaching towards the middle like blood would flow inside veins, the flower bed at the centre acting as the heart to which it will return.

Natsume continues the incantation, each new syllable working as a pump to the bloodstream, until eventually, the golden glow forms a wall around Sora, staining even the sunflowers on which he stands, but not him. Sora chirps, again and again, but this time he doesn’t fly away, as much as he looks like he would like to. Natsume starts feeling weak, although he’s not sure if it’s from loss of blood or loss of energy from such a powerful spell, but his words don’t falter for a second, no matter how heavy his body is.

With each second closer to the end, the glow burns brighter, melted gold at the bottom and fiery red at the top, swaying with the wind like flames would. With trembling limbs and sweat dripping down his face, Natsume reaches the end of the incantation, the last few words that spill from his mouth closing the spell like a well-tied knot. He huffs when he’s done, out of breath, looking at the still glowing circle and wondering why exactly nothing seems to be happening apart from the constant distressed chirps coming from Sora.

And then he sees light.

The solar eclipse is still in its totality, the light that blinds him coming from the fact that the circle explodes like the spell had been a ticking time bomb, engulfing Natsume and everything around him in a bright white world, burning so hot that he feels like the skin will melt from his bones. The chirping stops completely, though Natsume is not sure if it’s because he simply can’t hear anything at all, or feel much apart from the fire surrounding him. He wants to scream, but he can’t, he wants to run, but his legs won’t work. He’s stuck, and as bright as the world he sees is, it’s as terrifying as if he was lost in pure darkness.

It’s after seconds that feel like hours that Natsume regains any sensation that isn’t pain, and he vision goes past the blinding light that had taken over it, although the intensity of it makes it so it’s still blurry. Natsume blinks once, twice, shedding the tears that watered his eyes so he can look at what’s around him, to properly understand what’s happening. Slowly, the world around him comes into focus again. And he wishes it didn’t.

On all three sides Natsume can look at, for as far as several metres, where there used to be trees and bushes and flowers, butterflies and squirrels and snails, all that is left is ash, the remnants of what once was nothing but flames on the now burnt dirt, dying just like all the life they took with them, not even being allowed a last plead before being destroyed. All that’s left is the circle, now stained a dark red from the blood instead of the previous glowing gold, and at the centre of it, Natsume doesn’t find the bird he put there.

The sunflowers were the only plants to survive the explosion, still bright and yellow, newly plucked from the earth. But Natsume can barely see them properly, most of them hidden under what he now realises is a boy, facing away from him. Small, naked, and with a hair that shines as the magical blood did during the spell. The boy turns his head slowly, and Natsume finally sees his face. His sky blue eyes are clouded by tears that stream freely down his cheeks, his expression blank at the same time as it is clear with undeniable anguish. He stares straight at Natsume, looking at him like he sees more than a human, as if he can look at the depths of his soul. He then opens his mouth, in preparation to say words that don’t seem like they come naturally to him, but when he finally does, there’s no sound.

Natsume promptly passes out.

—

Sunlight shines through his eyelids, and Natsume wonders who opened his blinds so early in the morning that he has to be woken up by it. He wants to get up and close them, but his body feels heavy, stuck to the bed like he weighs a hundred tons. Even opening his eyes is a hard task, like this eyelids have been glued together for so long that they don’t want to separate anymore. He spends a good few minutes focusing all of his strength on it until finally, he gets them apart.

In retrospect, opening them was a bad idea. The sun shines even brighter without skin to protect him from it, and although usually, it’d only feel like a bother, the rays actually hurt his pupils. Natsume almost wants to close his eyes again, but after how hard he worked, it just feels like a bad idea— he doesn’t know if they’ll open a second time.

He wants to roll around to check, maybe at least glare at his curtains for being open in the first place, but the weight of bricks holding his head and neck down doesn’t allow much of that. He thinks, for a second, that maybe he can force his head to the side with the use of his hands; but upon trying, he finds that even lifting a single finger feels like he’s trying to carry a whole stack of old tomes. All he can do in his current state is stare at the ceiling, for even speaking proves to be hard when his throat feels so dry he could kill for a gulp of water.

Between the agonizing thoughts of being stuck in bed with no way to lift himself or even ask for someone’s help, Natsume hears the sound of his door opening. From his position, he can just barely make out a body, but it’s hard to pinpoint much else since his vision gets blurry from trying to turn his eyes farther than they’re actually supposed to. Thankfully, the person comes closer, enough that Natsume can actually see that it’s his mother, who upon making eye contact with him, makes such a surprised face he’d think she just saw someone come back from the dead.

“ _Natsume_.” Instead of surprised, her voice sounds more relieved than anything. She drops down on the bed, pulling Natsume into her arms. 

“M-Mo… mmy…?” he manages to barely let out, throat hurting so much he wishes he didn’t go through the effort.

“Oh honey,” Maya pulls away, looking down at him with tears pooling at the corner of her eyes, “you haven’t had water in so long, you must be parched. Let me get you some.”

She leaves him to go to the bathroom attached to his room, coming back quickly with a cup of water in hand. Natsume can’t quite get up to drink it himself, and that’s obvious enough that she carefully helps him up into a sitting position, holding his back with one arm so he doesn’t drop down on the bed again.

“Drink slowly, okay?”

He doesn’t understand why she says that at first, because he’s not a child anymore that doesn’t even understand how to drink water properly, but it starts making sense when the first gulp of water goes down his throat. _God_ , he’s thirsty; yes, his dry throat was more than a signal, but he didn’t even realise how badly he needed water until he felt something hydrating his body again. His mother just warned him about that, though, so he tries not to gulp it down _too_ quickly. His state is already bad enough that he doesn’t need to add “choked on water” to the list.

The water in the cup goes away in the blink of an eye, Maya taking it from his lips and placing it on the bedside table as soon as Natsume’s done. “How are you feeling, honey?” She asks, turning towards him again with a smile on her face. It’s not exactly a happy one, though, it mostly just seems that she’s smiling to make him feel better.

“A bit betTER,” his voice comes to him more easily now, and he even remembers to keep up the quirk in his speech this time, “but why do I feel like tHIS…?”

Maya’s smile falls, her expression turning into a frown. “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?”

He furrows his brow, trying hard to remember it. Even thinking is difficult right now, apparently, his limbs and muscles not being the only tired part of his body. He concentrates for what feels like too long for someone just trying to pull back a memory, but eventually, it comes to him. He wishes it didn’t.

The sigh of the ashy, destroyed forest is the first memory he gets. It’s followed by the incredible pain of what he did and what it took from him, the despair and fear and anguish for what he caused. Finally, the last thing he saw before he dropped into unconsciousness: the small, crying boy, looking straight at his soul.

“A-ah,” Natsume wants to scream, but his throat isn’t working enough to do that. Strength comes back to his arms just enough for him to hold his head in-between both hands, trying to make those memories go away again, tears burning his eyes as they threaten to fall “I- I didn’t- the forEST—”

“Calm down, honey,” Maya starts rubbing comforting circles on his back, “Mommy’s here. You’re not there anymore.” She tries to bring his thoughts back to reality, but the terrible visions don’t stop popping on his mind. Her voice barely makes it through.

It’s worse, somehow, than what it felt that day in the forest. He passed out so quickly he didn’t have time to fully process the situation. Now, the ashes make him afraid, the voices of the dead scream at him. Natsume feels the guilt hurt him like several knives digging into his body, almost like he’s feeling all the sensations of the pain and death he caused coming back for him at once; he can’t breathe, can’t hear his own voice, can’t even feel the world outside of his head.

He passes out again.

—

Natsume’s eyes open much quicker than they did the first time. The weight on his body is might lighter than when he previously woke up, what feels the most uncomfortable now is the crack of dried out tears on his face and a terrible headache that built up while he was asleep. He still remembers the dread his memories caused him before he passed out a second time, but at least now his lungs work again. Then, just barely, he feels the motion of someone petting his head.

“Good afternoon, honey.”

Ah, his mother is still here. Natsume pushes himself into a sitting position, not needing help with it this time. Her hand drops from his head, coming back to rest on her lap. She doesn’t say anything else, so he feels it’s his turn to talk. He’s not even sure what he should say to begin with. Should he apologise for his attack? For passing out twice? For his actions— _oh_.

With his brain working again, Natsume finally remembers why exactly he performed that spell for, what those lives were used to pay for. 

“Sora… is hE…?” he doesn’t finish his sentence, too many different questions apply to it for him to say all of them.

“He’s fine,” Maya answers one of them, making Natsume’s heart go back to pumping blood through his body once his biggest worry leaves him. “Though you might want to see for yourself.”

She looks to the side, towards the end of his bed. Natsume follows her stare, finding just what she’s staring at right by the side of his leg. Well, not exactly a what, but a _who_. Instead of the bird he was expecting to see, the being sleeping peacefully next to him looks very much human. Not any human, though, but he recognises the tuft of yellow hair— it’s the same one from the boy that was in the middle of his circle. 

Natsume jumps in surprise, the sudden movement pushing the boy away just slightly, enough to shake him out of his sleep. The boy blinks, now awake, and looks to the side to find what exactly had shaken him away from his dreams. His eyes are beautiful sky blue, so bright and stunning Natsume can’t choose between wanting to look away or stare at them for eternity. They shine even brighter when he catches sight of Natsume’s own, a big smile forming on his face.

“Master!” The boy jumps from his spot, throwing himself onto Natsume and taking him into a tight hug. “You’re up!”

“Eh?” Natsume is too stunned to form a proper reaction, not really understanding who the boy is, why he’s so excited to see him, and what he has to do with Sora to begin with. Though even if he doesn’t quite understand, the hug feels weirdly nice, not in the same way it did when he hugged other people. It’s special, in some way.

His mother notices his confusion, so she speaks again to explain the situation. “That’s Sora.”

Natsume’s eyes open so wide he feels like they’ll pop out of his skull at the realisation. _Sora_ . That’s it, that explains the warm feeling, the sense of secureness at being held by him. _I did it, I bound him to me. He’s- he’s a person too, now_. If he hadn’t already exhausted his reservoir of water, he’d probably cry again.

“S-sora.” His entire body trembles too hard for him to form words without stuttering. But that’s just fine, he can’t mind that when the most important thing right now is hugging Sora back. “You’re here, you’RE—”

“Sora’s human now!” Sora finished Natsume’s sentence for him, still not pulling away. “Or, well, onii-san explained to Sora that he’s not _quite_ human because he can still turn into a bird and everything, but one of Sora’s bodies is human!”

Gods, his voice is so cute, and the way he speaks makes Natsume’s heart melt. He never wants him to stop talking. Still, he barely had a look at his face, so he pulls back begrudgingly to see it properly this time. Sora still looks extremely happy, his smile just as bright and warm as if the sun was shining directly at Natsume. He cups Sora’s cheeks, slowly taking in just how gorgeous he is. He could stare at him forever.

“Well, I’m going to leave you boys alone,” Maya speaks, making Natsume realise he even forgot she was there, to begin with, “but do come downstairs when you feel better, okay? We have some things we need to talk about.”

Having his mother inviting him for _a talk_ didn’t sound like a good thing. He’s never been scolded enough by her that she needed to sit down to talk, but with his big his fuck up was, it’s not surprising that they need a much more serious conversation now. Still, he can’t find himself to dread it as much as he should, not when he feels the warmth of Sora’s cheeks on his hands, enjoying the way he drops his head slightly like a pet enjoying his touch.

He barely remembers to reply an _Okay_ before his mother leaves the room, the click of the door meaning he and Sora are the only people left inside his room. Natsume moves one of his hands to brush Sora’s bangs out of the way, wanting to get a better look at him.

“Hihi, that tickles!”

“Ah, sorRY.” Natsume pulls his hand away, letting Sora’s bangs fall back to cover his forehead.

“It’s okay though! Sora likes it when master touches him.” 

That’s so adorable Natsume’s not sure he wants to squish him, hug him, or— well, kiss him. After burying his crush for Tsumugi so it wouldn’t set him astray from his goals, Natsume hadn’t really felt that way again. There was no time to think about kisses and love and holding hands when all he could think about was keeping Sora safe. But now, Sora _is_ safe. He’s sitting down on Natsume’s bed, with a sturdy human body and bound to him so he wouldn’t get hurt so easily again. That means Natsume’s heart can work once more, and it does, wonderfully. It still hurts a bit to think about what he did to get here, but it’s much easier to throw that to the back of his mind when he can fill it with Sora instead.

Although, Sora looks so young and naive Natsume isn’t even sure if it’s okay for him to harness those feelings and wants. Yes, he might’ve fallen in love mere seconds after setting his eyes on him, but how can he even be sure that Sora is okay with reciprocating that when his feelings might’ve come from the simple fact that Natsume raised him and then bound them to each other? How long has Sora even been transformed for?

“Hm… master…?” Sora looks at him inquisitively, probably wondering why Natsume has been staring at him for so long without saying anything. “Your colour looks worried, is everything okay?”

“My colOUR?” It’s Natsume’s turn to be confused. Does he have a colour to him that looks worried, like when someone that is sick looks a bit more green? He brings his hands close to his face to confirm, but they just look their regular colour to him.

“Oh, not your skin!” Sora grabs Natsume’s hands, bringing them down so they can look at each other before he keeps talking. “You see, to Sora, everyone has their own colour! It’s a bit hard to describe, but because Sora sees them, he can kind of tell emotions and stuff from them.”

“I sEE.” It sounds a bit confusing, but Natsume remembers reading a bit about people with that ability. Though he never met anyone like that before. “Is that... because of becoming my familiAR?”

“Not at all, actually~ Sora has always been able to do it, he just couldn’t speak before.” Sora smiles just as brightly as he had when he woke up, holding Natsume’s hands a bit tighter. “But now he can, like how he sees how much Master loves him!” 

Blood rushes to his head so quickly Natsume even feels dizzy, painting his entire face in red. It didn’t really click at first that Sora seeing people’s emotions meant he knows exactly how Natsume feels, but having him bring that up sure did. If Sora can differentiate between the colour Natsume showed when he was a bird and the one he does now, that’s even worse.

“Don’t worry, Master!” Sora catches on quickly. “Sora loves you too!”

Natsume’s about to tell him that isn’t exactly the issue, because he does know Sora loves him in some way, otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck together with him for so many years. That’s not exactly the same kind of love that made him stare at Sora’s lips just a bit longer, though. Lips which come closer to him so quickly Natsume doesn’t have time to voice his worries before Sora kisses him.

 _Oh my god_ , _Sora’s kissing me._ Natsume’s surprise is so much he doesn’t even think about closing his eyes, instead just looking at Sora’s face from up close, appreciating how long his eyelashes are, and how smooth his skin looks. Sadly, the kiss is short-lived, and Natsume doesn’t have the courage to seek another one; not yet, at least.

“Hihi~ See? We feel the same way.” Sora grins widely, eyes closing to complete one of the cutest expressions Natsume’s ever seen.

If he was standing up, his legs would’ve surely given up on him by now. He felt like he was in the bottom of a pit not too long ago, but now it’s like he’s floating between the softest clouds. Sora always had the ability to make Natsume feel better, but that ability multiplied tenfold now that they can properly communicate, and well, _touch_ each other. He wasn’t expecting to get more than a familiar and a friend when binding Sora to him, and he definitely wasn’t expecting that his next crush would happen simply by setting his eyes on the cutest boy he’s ever seen, when that boy had just turned from bird to human.

“I sEE.” The orange tones of the setting sun shining on them feels appropriate for such a special moment. With a smile that mirrors Sora’s, Natsume brings their foreheads together. “Thank you for staying with me, SoRA.”


	2. Chapter 2

The talk his mother wanted to have was actually a bit more serious than he expected, the first blow being that he wasn’t simply asleep for a few days like he thought, but for the entirety of two weeks, missing much more of Sora’s initial stages of human life than he had thought. Tsumugi, thankfully, took it upon himself to take care of Sora in Natsume’s stead, which explains why Sora called him _onii-san_ ; though that might have also been because he simply copied whatever names he heard Natsume call people while he was still a bird. After that, he found that his punishment for the horrible thing he’d done at the forest was that he got suspended from school for a month, and to top it off, his mother took away his magic and put all his tomes under lock and key, which meant except for his voice, Natsume would have to live a magic-free life for the rest of that month. But he’s not the only one that got scolded.

Apparently, Tsumugi knew very well the consequences and outcome of the ritual Natsume performed, and simply chose not to stop him. Natsume’s mad at him for not even giving some kind of proper warning, but not even close to as mad as his mother is. Tsumugi can’t interact with _anyone_ for a full month, not even Sora or Hokuto, basically sentencing him to the same life he had before Natsume summoned him. According to Maya, he grew too comfortable while being free, and she wanted to remind him of his place.

For Hokuto, his punishment was proper familiar training. Although he didn’t know what Natsume was getting himself into, that fact meant that as a familiar, he simply didn’t have the knowledge to protect, guide and look after his master. Of course, simply training him didn’t really count as a punishment, so Maya assigned Seiya to supervise him for that month. In Natsume’s eyes, that definitely seemed like the worst fate of all three of them.

Actually, in his case, as much as he misses magic he’s not as bothered to be without it as he would’ve been before Sora. Having him by his side means Natsume can wake up in the morning cuddling his own bundle of sunshine, and then spend his days reading non-magic books (something he hadn’t done in years) and slowly teaching Sora about the human world. To top it off, he finds that Sora is an extremely affectionate person, taking whatever opportunity to hug Natsume, hold his hand, and kiss him, _a lot_. He’s not too sure if what they’re doing can be counted as dating; Natsume never dated anyone before, and Sora didn’t even know what dating means. Thankfully, neither of them cared as much about titles as they cared about simply staying by each other’s side.

Sometimes Sora would mention how he missed Tsumugi and Hokuto; they stayed by his side right after he transformed, so he became close to them almost as much as he is to Natsume. In those moments, Natsume would hold his hand and kiss his forehead, reassuring him that soon enough they’d all be together again. Apart from those worries, Sora was as happy and bright as his appearance, proving to be a quick-learner in Natsume’s hands, following his directions and treating his words as gospel, his beliefs and morals dictated according to Natsume’s own.

Maybe what’s responsible for Sora’s quick learning is the fact that before becoming such a young-looking boy, he was an already middle-aged bird. That fact made Natsume feel a bit less guilty for liking him; Sora is far from a child, really, and at most he looks so close to Natsume’s age that perhaps he didn’t have to feel guilty at all. Of course, even then those thoughts we’re easily tuned out whenever he held Sora in his arms to sleep, or brushed his bangs aside to affectionately kiss all over his face.

The end of that one month comes with both regret and thankfulness— Natsume’s glad that he can have his magic back, as a little as he attended school, having the possibility to go back to classes if he so wanted is a freedom he missed. On the other hand, it meant his time with Sora would be cut short, considering the fact that now Hokuto and Tsumugi are back at his side, so he wasn’t the subject of Sora’s attention at all times anymore. He buries that selfish thought as deep as he can when he sees how happy Sora is to have their company again; he couldn’t show his jealousy and possessiveness so clearly if it would separate Sora from his bright, enchanting smile.

Not only that, but Tsumugi and Hokuto also looked gleeful for finally meeting him again— although probably for different reasons. At least in Hokuto’s case, Natsume knows half the reason he was so thankful is that he didn’t need to have his father hovering over him at every moment of every day, and he’s now allowed to avoid him as much as possible again. In Tsumugi’s case… he wasn’t really sure. As he grew up, Natsume started realising how the kind, loving nii-san he thought Tsumugi was ended up much more apathetic than the image he had of him. Of course, he continued to be amiable and nice to Natsume even as he grew snappy and rude at the mere existence of Tsumugi, but he also didn’t mince any words at him, and if you looked too close, the way he disconnected himself from other people — maybe because of his own inferiority complex, or the fact he was so continuously exiled from humanity — also meant that no matter the topic, or situation, be it happy or sad, his expressions and reactions wouldn’t change accordingly. He cared about humans just as much as he disregarded them.

Even through that; even while conscious of those facts, even while still acting offensive and dismissive towards him, Natsume, now able to look at new things in life, with functioning heart, couldn’t help the fact that though he would pinch Tsumugi’s hand away, he truly felt like holding it; though he would kick Tsumugi away from his bedroom whenever he’d try to get on his bed in wolf form like the old days, he wouldn’t mind feeling his soft fur again.

Natsume had Sora, and Natsume loved him like the earth loved the sun. And yet, maybe he could love more than that as well.

—

Peace, as it always is in Natsume’s life, doesn’t last for long. This time, it wasn’t anything as convoluted as the dreadful feeling of one of his most cared for friends dying or disappearing completely, it was much simpler.

While he managed to suppress it for some time, it was only a matter of time before the memories of what he’s done came back to haunt him; this time in the form of nightmares. He’d dream about the destruction he caused, about the lives he took coming back to take him with them; about the ashes, the only remaining trace of his slaughter left atop the burnt dirt illuminated by the fading eclipse. In lucky days, Natsume was able to force himself awake before his nightmares worsened; but when he wasn’t so lucky, he’d go through intense pain before it got too much for him to continue asleep, kicking him out of his dreams just as his brain couldn’t handle it anymore. 

Tonight wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Natsume shoots up into a sitting position in bed, just short of screaming as his eyes open, breathing so heavily his lungs strain painfully to keep working. He blinks several times, both to hold back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall, and to shake himself awake enough so his body remembers that he’s not dreaming anymore, and back in reality, there are no ghosts that want to drag him to the pits of hell, so full of will he’s unable to run from them. Natsume looks around his room, searching for something to ground him, finding what so far has worked best in nights like this: Sora, sleeping with a peaceful expression by his side. Natsume grabs one of Sora’s hands, trembling too much to do so carefully, and maybe holding it a bit too tight. Thankfully, that doesn’t wake him up, the way Sora tightens his hold almost like second nature even if he’s unconscious.

It helps more than words can tell, soon stabilizing Natsume’s breathing, his room coming back into focus instead of the blurry, horrifying darkness he saw when he first opened his eyes. Natsume brings up Sora’s hand just slightly, bending down the rest of the way to kiss it softly, although he still trembled a bit. “Thank you, SoRA.” He whispers to the soft skin, even though Sora can’t hear him.

No matter how much he wishes he could go back to sleep just like that, he knows that closing his eyes again so soon isn’t wise; Natsume doesn’t want to take the risk of falling into that dream again. Usually, he’d just stay in bed, reading a book or playing with Sora’s hair until it’s safe again for him to close his eyes. But the moon shines brightly tonight, so maybe getting some fresh air while looking at it would bring him peace more quickly. Natsume slides himself to the corner of the bed, getting up with slow movements so as to not wake up Sora. He puts on his slippers and grabs the soft blanket he’d left on top of his desk chair — it’s a cold night, after all, and he didn’t want to catch a cold — before walking towards the door to his balcony.

Just as he’s about to push the glass door, he catches sight of a familiar lock of blue hair, only just visible from the corner of his eyes. Natsume sighs, knowing exactly who it belongs to, and opens the door to enter the balcony. Tsumugi, as he expected, sits on the ground right next to the railing, back resting against the wall and head facing the sky, looking like he’s basking in its light.

“So you’re here, mophEAD.” That makes Tsumugi jolt, startled by the sudden voice.  
  
“Oh, Natsume-kun, you’re up!” Tsumugi looks surprised to see Natsume join him, as if he didn’t expect for him to appear on his own balcony. “I see you came up with yet another nickname… It’d be fine if you just continued calling me Nii-san like you used to, you know?”

“Shut UP.” Ah, it’s unbelievable how quickly Tsumugi turns Natsume’s rude switch on.

To his surprise, Tsumugi _does_ stop talking, only watching as Natsume closes the distance between them to sit on the ground by his side, covering himself with the soft blanket; he isn’t courteous enough to offer for Tsumugi to join him under it.

“Why are you on my balcony anyWAY?” Natsume asks, because he didn’t _really_ want to sit in silence, and he knows Tsumugi would simply not speak again after being told to do so, even if he realised Natsume didn’t mean it.

“It’s a full moon tonight.” Tsumugi looks up at the sky again. “Your room is the only one with a balcony facing it. Sorry, I know you didn’t want me in your room, but I didn’t think you’d wake up in the middle of the night…” He looks genuinely apologetic, which is something rare to see.

“I don’t miND.” Natsume shuffles just a bit closer, praying that Tsumugi doesn’t comment on it. “I didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night eiTHER. Just… things happeNED.”

“Mmhm.” Although he makes a sound of affirmation that he’s listening, Tsumugi doesn’t look down at Natsume again, still gazing at the moon. He doesn’t pry further, probably because he’s already aware of what _things_ mean.

A strong gust of wind passes before Natsume can say another word, strong enough that he feels cold even while under the blanket, shivering while he wraps himself a bit more tightly to try and stop his body from freezing, unconsciously moving closer to Tsumugi— that’s second nature for him already, after years of snuggling in the cold with the always warm body next to him; even though they hadn’t laid on the same bed together for a couple of years now. The movement makes Tsumugi look down at him.

“Ahaha, this brings back memories.” His expression softens when his eyes meet Natsume’s. “You used to cling to me like this when you were young too, I’m happy to see you doing that again~.”

Even though Natsume had those memories brought back to him as well, he didn’t need for Tsumugi to say that out loud. He punches his arm for good measure.

“That hurts?! You didn’t need to punch me like that!” Tsumugi looks as hurt emotionally as he is physically. “Natsume-kun grew so violent, the younger you used to be so cute with me…”

“S͞t̴o͢p tal҉k͏in͟g͠ ̷about̸ ͡thing̸s̶ l̸i̵k̵e th̨at. D̸ie̛.̡” Natsume wants to punch him once more, but he doesn’t feel like lifting his fists again. He hates when Tsumugi talks about the past, about the cute _Natsume-chan_ that loved to sit on his lap and hear his stories, that held his hand when they went for walks and cuddles with him on winter nights.

“Now I’m getting threatened?!” Tsumugi must’ve noticed his anger, for he cowers away from Natsume. “I really don’t get why you hate me so much!”

“I don’t hate yOU.”

“Eh?”

“It’s just annoying when you treat me like a little KID. I’m grown nOW, so stop seeing me like oNE.”

“So that’s it…” He doesn’t seem to fully accept the explanation. “Still, I’m hundreds of years old. If you’re that much younger, that’s only natural, you know?”

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ That’s what makes him angriest. The audacity that Tsumugi has of looking confused, of not even noticing through all those years how Natsume felt about him — even if he tried to conceal it recently between rude words and violence. Just the thought that no matter how much he grew, how old he got, the gap between them means that Tsumugi would always see him as a child, no potential beyond that and their relationship as bonded witch and werewolf. It’s infuriating, and makes his blood boil. He’s so irritated his brain can’t work properly to put a stop to actions he wouldn’t perform with a sane mind; now, it just seemed better to convey his anger not by hitting Tsumugi again; but by pulling him down by the neck of his shirt, down until their lips clashed with each other.

He feels the way Tsumugi tries to recoil, but his hold on him is firm enough to not allow that. If he started this, he might as well go until the end. Natsume has enough experience from kissing Sora — although neither of them ever really kissed anyone apart from each other — to know what he’s doing. Natsume opens his mouth, licking Tsumugi’s lips to make him open his as well. It doesn’t work, he’s still too stiff and stunned to even get what Natsume’s doing, which is a pain. He bites Tsumugi’s bottom lip, who lets out a surprised yelp, the perfect opportunity for Natsume to shove his tongue inside his mouth, which elicits another surprised, albeit muffled, sound from him.

After several, excruciatingly long moments, Tsumugi finally kisses him back, and Natsume feels like the mountain on his shoulder finally falls to the ground. He’s not running, he’s not using force — which Natsume knows he has, Tsumugi still is physically stronger than him — to push him away, he’s _reciprocating_. Clouds fill his head, which feels so light it’s almost like there’s no brain inside it. It doesn’t matter, because Natsume doesn’t need a brain right now; he doesn’t need to think he separates from Tsumugi just long enough to climb on his lap, each leg on one side of him, shoving his hands Tsumugi’s hair and kissing him again before either of them even get proper time to breathe. Tsumugi’s hands come up to hold his waist, and if Natsume had a little less shame, he’d let out a sound that he’s sure to feel so embarrassed about he’d lose sleep at night; thankfully, he has just enough self-control left to not do it.

Eventually, as all things do, Natsume has to pull back; there’s only so long he can go without any intake of air, after all. After opening his eyes, he slowly takes in the sight in front of him. Tsumugi breathes heavily, his eyes still clouded, his hair a mess from when Natsume grabbed it. His open lips are red and slightly puffed, and it takes quite a lot of self-restraint for Natsume not to kiss him again. He still can’t believe it, that he managed to gather the courage to finally do what’s been on his mind for years, even if recently he tried to forget it. Then, after a few seconds of staring at each other, it dawns on him.

 _He kissed Tsumugi_ . Natsume never even planned to tell him how he felt, much less _act_ on it, which basically took away all his chances of denying his words afterwards. Tsumugi kissing him back aside, his actions are so incredibly embarrassing now that Natsume’s brain works again that he feels a huge, burning blush take over his face, even the tip of his ears feeling warm.

“Natsume-kun?” Tsumugi calls him, his tone questioning, probably wondering why Natsume looks like all the blood vessels in his body just exploded.

“I- I’m better nOW, so I’m gonna go back to bED.” He takes Tsumugi’s hand off of his waist and pushes himself up with his legs, almost tripping and falling on top of Tsumugi again because of how weak they feel. Natsume needs to _get out_ , he’s absolutely not ready for any kind of conversation after what he’s done.

“Wait, Natsume-kun—”

Tsumugi’s voice is cut off when Natsume hurriedly shuts the door to his balcony, now inside his room again. He’s lucky enough that Sora didn’t wake up with the noise, or the subsequent dip of the bed when Natsume joins him, burying himself fully under the covers. He’s going to close his eyes, and in the morning he’s going to forget this ever happened.

Forcing himself to sleep, Natsume prays the universe is merciful enough that neither Tsumugi nor himself will ever have to talk about this night again.

— 

The universe isn’t merciful.

Not because Tsumugi brings it up again, per se. He doesn’t talk about it, but since the kiss, his actions towards Natsume changed drastically. Previously, when he thought Natsume had grown to hate his guts, he was much more cautious about their interactions. After that night, it seems like he came to the conclusion that since Natsume did what he did, it was okay to go back to acting as he used to years ago, all affectionate and too close for comfort. He’d try to hold Natsume’s hand when they’d walk back from school — why did Tsumugi even _go_ to his school is something he wondered as well since he didn’t even attend classes. All he did was come for Natsume when the bell rang to walk him home, which was extremely annoying. Then, he’d try to hug Natsume when he saw him and Sora cuddling while reading or playing games, only unable to do so because Natsume would shove him away. Worst of all, sometimes he’d come for Natsume at night, asking if he wanted to sleep on the same bed again, and the pure shamelessness for suggesting something like that, _especially_ after a kiss, made Natsume fume. If he blushed with some of them, no one had the courage to comment on it.

As if that wasn’t bad enough by itself, Sora seemed overjoyed every time one of those interactions happened. _Seeing Master and Onii-san acting close together again makes Sora happy~_ he’d say, and Natsume would never get mad at him, but he’d like it if he didn’t say it like that. He worked hard to put on the mask of someone who saw Tsumugi as nothing more than an impertinent dog that needed training, and now both of them seeing beyond it made him very uncomfortable. Even Hokuto asked, one time, why Natsume pretended to hate Tsumugi when he so obviously cared about him; thankfully, it only took one ugly stare from Natsume for him not to say anything about it again.

He wishes an angry stare would’ve stopped Tsumugi completely as well; because even though Natsume would constantly deny him and he’d stop at the moment, Tsumugi would always come back to try again. Some rare, _very rare_ times, Natsume would be too tired to complain. Yes, he’d pretend that it never happened again after it, but maybe it is a little bit his fault that Tsumugi wouldn’t back off. Why would he, when every other week, if he caught Natsume at the right time in the morning, he’d get a kiss before being told to shut up. Why would he, when Natsume would show up at his bed after nightmares, no words exchanged between them when Tsumugi wrapped his arms around him and held him until they both fell asleep again. Why would he, when even as dense as he was, he managed to see through Natsume so clearly.

Of course, he made sure to remind Tsumugi just how things really worked constantly as well, quickly going through his whole repertoire of “ _that hurts!_ ” and related sentences. Still, that didn’t make it any less annoying. Particularly because, as aware of many things as Tsumugi was, he just seemed to forget that Natsume is sixteen, and maybe he’s too old to remember, but sixteen-year-old boys tend to have needs that go way past kissing, and living with the person they liked only made them more loaded. Natsume didn’t think about it that much when he was only with Sora; honestly, he’s not even sure Sora knows much about anything apart from kissing and the things Natsume taught him, along with the books he was given. So now that he had someone apart from Sora, it crashed down at him with concentrated strength.

In simpler words, Natsume’s horny.

And since Tsumugi is too much of a coward, or oblivious fool, to do anything about it, Natsume has to find something else to focus on. Today, that focus is some potions he's experimenting with, out on his balcony to make use of the strong sunlight that some of them need to work. Sora went out to the woods earlier, saying something about how flying through the leaves is great on a sunny day, and although Natsume trusts in his ability to keep himself safe much more than he did before, he still sent Hokuto to look after him. So that means he’s alone as he throws some lavender in a pot, positioned over a small stove he brought with him outside. Some potions work better when warmed by sunlight after assembly, so he took the opportunity of such a day to experiment with them.

However, his undistracted solitary time lasts but a few minutes before he hears the door to his balcony click open. Natsume turns his head to see who it is, being greeted by Tsumugi’s smile, a book in his hand and his hair looking a little more of a mess than usual.

“Good morning, Natsume-kun.” He says, walking towards Natsume to sit on the floor by his side. “It’s rare for you to bring your potion-making outside.”

“They’re vitality poTIONS,” Natsume explains, annoyance clear in his voice for being interrupted, rolling his eyes as he throws some garlic cloves into the pot as well, “they need sunlight to work betTER.”

“Ooh, I should’ve guessed.” The tone in Tsumugi’s voice sounds all too-knowing; it makes Natsume turn to look at him again, his stare carrying the question of what does he even means with that comment. “Your classmate has been sick recently, right? What was his name… Yu… Yuuki-kun, that’s it! So I thought it was just about time for you to make something for him. Natsume-kun cares for his friends a lot, after all.” Tsumugi does the favour of catching onto those unsaid inquiries and clarifying his train of thought, which is good. The subject of his reply, though? Very bad.

Natsume elbows his gut.

“Ow!” Tsumugi recoils in pain, hiding the affected spot with both arms. “Why did you hit me?!”

“Because you don’t know when to shut UP.” Natsume is still glaring at him. “Maybe I’d hit you less if you weren’t so irritatING.”

“You could’ve just told me?! You always resort to violence so quickly instead of using words, I don’t understand how you grew up to be like that.” More than hurt for physical pain, Tsumugi looks like a kicked puppy. “And I thought we were getting along better with the kisses and stuff…”

Stupid words. Even worse than the reply from earlier. Natsume smacks his back with a tome.

“Don’t be too full of yourself because of things like THAT.” Dropping the book to his lap again, one of Natsume’s hands still forms a fist. Just in case. “I’ve been too leniENT. Maybe I should put you on a leash and train yOU, so you learn your plaCE.”

“What am I, a dog?!” Tsumugi notices the fist, shying away from him as if preparing for the next attack. “Well, I guess you could say werewolves are close to that, but if you treat your familiars like animals to be trained, you’ll be hated, you know?”

“I’d never treat Hokuto and Sora that WAY, because they’re good boys, unlike YOU.” Deciding it’s not worth his time to even go for another attack, Natsume just opens the tome on the page with the recipe for the potion he’s been preparing. “Now stop talkING, I want to finish this while the sun is still hiGH.”

Pulling some mushrooms out of a jar, he tries really hard not to think about how his words actually backfired into his treacherous mind, now very enthusiastic about imagining how Tsumugi would look _good_ on a leash. He powders the fungi with enough strength that, hopefully, it sends a sign to his brain that unless it stops doing that, they’re next.

—

Sora only comes back from the forest when the sun has already vanished from the horizon, hair full of leaves and hands full of dirt. He’s so adorable Natsume doesn’t even complain when he goes straight for a hug, smearing soil all over his clothes. Still, that doesn’t mean he’d let him climb on his bed to sleep like that, so Natsume makes sure to give him a bath before that; watching the way Sora plays with the bubbles and naturally leans on him when they enter the bathtub together healing Natsume in more ways than one. Though really, Sora should be a bit more careful when he goes for kisses while they’re like that; there’s only so much Natsume’s heart can take of Sora’s naked body flush against him as they make out before it splits in half from pumping way too much blood.

As always, Sora gets sleepy the moment the moon starts shining on the sky, wobbling his way to the bed after Natsume gets him dressed; he has no energy to take part in whatever Natsume’s wild imagination is thinking about, though it’s not like Natsume would even _try_ anything. Not now. And probably not for a while. So when Sora extends his tired arms in Natsume’s direction, inviting him for a hug so they could cuddle each other until they fall asleep, he has to regretfully deny that invitation.

“Not tonight, SoRA.” He says, coming closer only to kiss the top of Sora’s head. “I’ve got something to do, so go sleep first, okAY?”

“Okay...” Sora looks too drowsy to even oppose it, eyes already more closed than open. “Good night, Master~.”

“Good niGHT.” Natsume barely has time to ruffle Sora’s hair before he’s already asleep. 

The sight of Sora’s peaceful sleeping face would be enough to persuade him into climbing in bed as well, were it not for the fact that he has a bigger worry in his mind, one that hasn’t left his head for enough time that something as simple as a bath with Sora left him warm even after they left the tub. Honestly, he can’t bear it anymore, so he has to take matters into his own hands to solve it.

Natsume fishes a bottle from the bottom drawer of his side table, taking it with him to the bathroom to start the first phase of his plan, and honestly the most bothersome one. He’s researched enough to understand the steps he should take, but it’s still a long process. By the time he opens the door to his bedroom again and checks the clock, almost an hour has passed. In the meantime, Hokuto had come into his bedroom as well, curled into himself at the edge of his bed. When he sees Natsume, he lifts his head, looking at him with a questioning stare. _Don’t you dare mention it_ , Natsume tells him, through shared thoughts rather than words.

Slowly opening and closing the door that leads to the corridor, he tries to pretend the stickiness on his sleeping shorts don’t bother him while walking up the stairs to the third floor. He stops right in front of Tsumugi’s bedroom, working up the last bits of courage inside of him. _You can do it_ , he tells himself, _and even if you can’t, you’ll figure it out anyway_. He reaches for the doorknob and makes his entrance into the room.

“Natsume-kun?” Tsumugi is sitting on his bed, already in his sleepwear as he reads a book. He looks surprised to see Natsume at his door. “It’s still so early… did you have a nightmare?”

“I didN’T.” Is the only reply Natsume bothers to give, quickly walking the few steps left between him and Tsumugi, climbing on the bed after him.

“Oh.” A puzzled expression takes over Tsumugi’s face, both at Natsume denying the usual reason he visits his bedroom to begin with, and the fact that he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to what Tsumugi’s saying to begin with. “Then did something else happen? You usually never come up here without a reas—”

There’s no time to listen to anything Tsumugi says, lest he deviates from the goal he had when coming here in the first place. Natsume pulls him down by the hem of his shirt and shuts him up with his own mouth before he even finishes his sentence, his kiss just as forceful as the fist holding Tsumugi in place. Unlike the first time they were in this position, Natsume doesn’t actually have to stop him from pulling away; Tsumugi accepts his kiss much more easily, as soon as his brain catches up to exactly what’s happening. And that’d be all well and good, but it’s not what Natsume’s after.

Hands moving downward, he searches blindly until he finds a button, messily trying to undo all of them without having to separate their mouths. He only manages to get to the second one before Tsumugi himself breaks the kiss.

“What are you trying to do?” He asks, the tone of genuine confusion as annoying as ever— Natsume hates how he’s able to miss such simple cues, and were they in a different situation, he’d probably slap Tsumugi for that.

“What do you _think_ I’m doING?” He keeps undoing the buttons, in a much faster pace now that he can see them. “Can’t you even tell what would bring me to your room in the middle of the night like thIS?”

“Uhmm… usually it’s because of your nightmares, or when Sora-kun’s cold so he comes up as well, but I don’t see him…?”

Annoying. Stupid. Dense. Infuriating. Natsume really doesn’t know what part of that good-for-nothing blockhead he even likes, or at least he prefers to pretend he doesn’t. In any way, it’s better to use actions to explain, since Tsumugi desperately needs to learn how to read non-verbal signs. He pulls one of Tsumugi’s hands up, pressing the open palm against his ass, his small sleeping shorts doing a terrible job of covering even half of it.

“Hyah?!” Tsumugi lets out a shriek instead of properly spoken words, flinching as if he had just touched a burning stove, the colour of flames taking over his face. “O-okay. I think I get it but— d-don’t you think that’s moving too quickly? And also—”

“Also whAT? Are you so useless you can’t even fuck ME?”

“ _Natsume-kun!_ ” Tsumugi looks shocked by his choice of vocabulary, as if he didn’t expect Natsume to even know that word. “There’s just usually an order to be followed, you know? And you’re still so young, don’t you think you should wait? Thinking properly, are you even sure you want to do this with _me_? I’m certain there are way better options—”

Somehow the more Tsumugi speaks the less Natsume wants to listen to him; unless it’s in agreement to Natsume’s plans, he simply shouldn’t say anything at all. He rolls his eyes at the uncalled-for speech, how old does Tsumugi even _think_ he is that he wouldn’t even be sure of choices like these? Sometimes it still seems like he never stopped looking at Natsume as a child, even while they do things that he most _definitely_ wouldn’t in that case. Honestly, there are better ways to waste their time than to listen to an overbearing lecture about _certainty_ and _thinking about his decisions_ ; Natsume sits down, directly on top of Tsumugi’s lap, hoping that gets a reaction that will distract him from whatever preaching he’s thinking of.

What he finds is that maybe he didn’t need to take that kind of action; the hardness he feels under his ass is enough to confirm that as much as Tsumugi’s words sounded like he wanted to drive Natsume away from him, his actual body had a very different idea. What a hypocrite.

“What are you even preaching about when you’re like thIS?” Natsume does his best to keep the smug act going, grabbing Tsumugi’s face with one hand and bringing it closer to him, squeezing his jaw between his fingers. “Yo̧u̷ ̡e͟ith̛er f̛u̢c̨k me̡ ͡right nǫw͢,͡ ̷or sit t͝h͝er̸e and ͏I͢'ll ͞do̵ ̧i͘t my̛self.” By this point he doesn’t even care to keep his speech quirk going; it’s not like his magic ever worked on him anyway. 

“Okay, okay! I give!” Tsumugi barely manages to speak, the force of Natsume’s grip enough that he can’t properly open his mouth and his words sound as squished as his cheeks are. “Just— let’s at least not rush so much?”

“WhatevER.” Natsume lets his hand fall back down to his side, satisfied with the answer for now. “Just don’t take the whole niGHT, even my patience has a limIT.”

Natsume goes back to his previous task of getting rid of Tsumugi’s clothes, feeling the way his hands come up to carefully rest at his hips, before sliding under his shirt to touch his bare skin. Natsume remembers reading in books how that first contact is supposed to feel cold, but Tsumugi’s fingers trailing up his torso until they stop at his waist feel warm, like he’s getting hot water poured over each and every spot he touches. Natsume shivers, not because of the temperature, but because being touched — as innocent as this one is — makes him remember how long he’s been waiting for this.

Finally, he manages to unbutton his shirt completely, Tsumugi’s chest just as warm as the rest of him. It’s a _wonderful_ sight to Natsume’s eyes; he never truly managed to get a good look at Tsumugi’s body, and is more than pleased to find out that although he’s never seen him truly exercise, he definitely didn’t lack any muscle. His mouth waters like he’s looking at a meal, hands sliding up Tsumugi’s torso, appreciating the feel of his firm skin. 

“Natsume-kun” His gawking is interrupted by Tsumugi calling his name, making him look up, only to be pulled into another kiss. It’s so sweet Natsume verges on forgetting what he was doing before, until he feels a hand grabbing at his ass.

A surprised yelp leaves him, almost making Natsume bite Tsumugi’s tongue off; which would be a terrible loss, since he likes it a lot. Then, he allows himself to be gently lowered until his back hits the bed, shirt riding up his torso in what he hopes is an enticing sight, though it’s not like there’s much looking going on when their mouths still haven’t left each other. Tsumugi dips two fingers under the bands of Natsume’s shorts, but the current position doesn’t allow for him to take them off completely, so — with a bit of a fight from Natsume, whose hands grab at his hair to weakly try to keep him in place —, he stops their kissing to get away from Natsume’s body just enough pull the shorts all the way down and throw them to the other side of the bed.

The hurry in which he does so is such a glaring contrast with how he was acting before Natsume wonders if that’s just how he was feeling the entire time, or if something else brought that change. From his position, he can just barely catch what’s happening between Tsumugi’s legs, and the sight makes his mouth water as much as it makes alarms ring inside his head. Propelling himself up with his elbows and bending enough until his hands manage to reach the hem of Tsumugi’s pants, Natsume pulls them down in one swift move to properly confirm his suspicions. What he ends up seeing breaks his expectations in several ways.

To begin with, even while looking not even completely hard, Tsumugi’s _big_ , bigger than Sora, and definitely bigger than Natsume himself. But that’s not all there is to it; at the base of his dick, Natsume spots something he’d never seen in humans before; somehow, he managed to forget Tsumugi is not quite human. Natsume reaches for it, in awe at the fact he can’t even encircle all of the knot with one hand. Only that touch is enough to elicit a reaction out of Tsumugi, who groans above him.

“You should’ve told me about this beFORE,” Natsume says, looking up at him, “I’d have jumped on you sooner if I knEW.”

“A-ah— anyway—” Tsumugi’s face turns an even darker shade of red, and he moves away, bending down to look for something on his side table. Natsume can’t see what he’s doing, until he comes back with a bottle in hand, sitting in front of him. “I’m not sure how much you knew before coming here, but I have to prepare you first.”

Natsume would tell him he’s not stupid enough to come here unprepared, but after taking Tsumugi’s pants off, it’s not a bad idea to let him do what he wants for now; the hour he spent preparing himself in his bathroom is definitely not enough when compared to what’s waiting for him. He slides his legs open, giving Tsumugi more than enough space to kneel between them, one lubed finger slowly reaching for his hole. Then, he stops in his tracks when he realises that Natsume doesn’t quite feel like someone unprepared would. He looks up at Natsume, a question hanging in his stare.

“What are you stalling FOR?” Natsume says before he can comment on what he found, glaring at him as a sign that he shouldn’t say anything unless he wants to get kicked in the guts. “Go ON.”

“O-okay.” Thankfully understanding what Natsume means for once, he promptly goes back to what he was doing. The first finger doesn’t feel like much; although Tsumugi’s hands are much larger than his, and his fingers longer, it’s still not more than what Natsume had gotten to before coming. That’s clear to both of them, as a second finger quickly joins the first one.

Now _that’s_ closer to what he’s been looking for when he opened the bedroom door. For someone that barely has any experience with anything like this, it’s surprising even for himself that it actually feels good. The fingers fit easily up until the second knuckle, and when Tsumugi spreads them, Natsume involuntarily bites his bottom lip to prevent any sound from escaping him; though he realises he does it almost immediately, the pain more pronounced than whatever other feelings. He must’ve visibly winced at it, because Tsumugi gives him a worried look.

“That’s no good, Natsume-kun. You shouldn’t hurt yourself.” His words have little weight when he doesn’t stop moving his fingers, subsequently making it so Natsume _can’t_ stop biting his lips.

“W-whose fault- ah—” There it is; the sound he’s been trying to hold back from making, all because Tsumugi just had to make him say something. He doesn’t finish the sentence he started, instead bringing his arms up to encircle Tsumugi’s neck, pulling him down and into a messy kiss. He might as well use that to muffle his voice, and if anything, bite lips that aren’t his own as well.

Tsumugi easily follows Natsume’s pace, opening his lips almost instantly to deepen their kiss, fingers moving faster, every so often rubbing against something that makes Natsume’s whole body shiver. Right as he starts feeling impatient, wanting for something more, a third finger joins the other two; almost as if Tsumugi could read his thoughts, which is surprising, since he’s mostly useless when it comes to understanding whatever Natsume wants unless it’s clearly spelt out to him. In a different situation, he’d take a jab at Tsumugi for that, but the new addition finally starts stretching him further than what he managed to get when preparing himself back in his bathroom. 

Digging his nails into Tsumugi’s back, Natsume’s already closed eyes squeeze shut even tighter. It doesn’t hurt that much, considering he’s already mostly used to the feeling from all the ‘training’ he did on lonesome late nights; sooner than he thinks, even though that might’ve been more than a few minutes or even an hour, he isn’t sure, it finally goes from weird back to pleasurable. He grows slowly more aware of every inch of Tsumugi’s fingers slowly thrusting into him, reaching much deeper than Natsume’s ever could. If that wasn’t enough, him remembering the fact that something bigger than that is soon going to be inside him feels him with as much dread as it does lust.

“How much— ah— longer a-are you going to taKE?” He manages to ask in between kisses.

“Probably a bit more.” The fact that Tsumugi’s voice is so stable compared to Natsume, even though it makes sense since he’s not the one getting fingered, is actually quite annoying. “I don’t want you to feel any pain.”

“The only pain—” _Fuck_ those fingers for rubbing against him just right when he’s in the middle of talking, his moan having no way of being muffled. The sound of it makes Natsume incredibly embarrassed, and he bites Tsumugi’s shoulder to retaliate since that’s clearly his fault— and it’s not like he feels pain properly, anyway. Surprisingly, that also makes him stop moving. “The only _pain_ I’m feeLING,” the lack of stimulation means Natsume can talk properly again, which is great, “is from you refusing to put your dick inside ME.” 

Tsumugi drops his head on Natsume’s shoulders, hiding his face on the crook of his neck, rendering Natsume unable to see what his expression is. “That’s _so_ unfair.” His breath is warm on Natsume’s skin. “I’m trying to be careful with you, you know?” Although he says that, he’s already withdrawing his fingers, leaving nothing but an empty feeling in its wake.

Tsumugi lifts his head again, and while he looks as embarrassed as Natsume imagined he did, his eyes are cloudy with lust, which makes Natsume wonder if his own are the same. He doesn’t protest Tsumugi taking his time to properly line himself, because although he’d like to not have to wait any longer, his dick looks even bigger than the last time Natsume got a look at it. At some point, he had ditched his pants completely, which is great since then Natsume’s thighs don't have to rub against some rough, uncomfortable fabric when Tsumugi comes closer, lifting Natsume’s legs so he can get properly positioned in between them.

“Just tell me if it hurts, or if you want to stop, alright?”

“SuRE.” Natsume scoffs, as if there’s any chance he’s going to put an end to it when he’s already been waiting for so long.

Tsumugi uses one hand to align himself, the other located beside Natsume’s shoulder to hold himself up. The first feeling of the blunt head of Tsumugi’s cock against his hole makes Natsume drip in anticipation, still mostly in disbelief this is _finally_ happening. Then he pushes inside, and it takes all the strength Natsume has left in him not to scream; maybe Tsumugi had a point when he said they should take a bit more time, though he’s not sure any amount of fingering would make him ready for that. It hurts, and Natsume’s eyes water as he’s stretched further than he ever thought he’d be, but he knows putting a halt to it now would mean he’d have to wait for God knows how long before they can get to this point again.

To prevent that from happening, Natsume closes his weak legs around Tsumugi’s hips, a clear sign that he’s not supposed to stop; which gladly, he doesn’t. Although it’s painfully slow, both because of the pain and because of Natsume’s impatience, where even a second is already too much waiting. When Tsumugi gets as far as he can, the only thing keeping their hips from being flush against each other the knot at the base of his cock, Natsume lets out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, and he looks up at Tsumugi, catching the way his dilated pupils look at the place they’re connected. The sight of lust taking over him in a way Natsume never imagined he’d see makes his mouth water, wondering just how much he would gain if he tipped him over the edge.

“What are you waiting FOR,” Natsume’s voice is breathless even though they’re staying still for now, heart beating a thousand miles an hour, “ _Tsumugi-niisan?_ ”

The way Tsumugi groans and drops his head on the mattress next to Natsume is so hot it has as much effect on him as the words he said had on Tsumugi; he feels the way he drips inside him. Unable to wait for another second, he pulls back just enough to make a shallow, hard thrust inside, and Natsume sees _stars_. The tears pooling at his eyes from the pain join the new pleasure-induced ones, just like both those sensations mix with each other as well. It’s not a bad feeling at all, even though he feels like he’s burning from the inside out with every new thrust as he’s filled again and again by Tsumugi’s cock.

His mind is starting to turn blank when Natsume feels kisses being laid on his neck, the tenderness behind them wholly unexpected. He appreciates the blend of that sweetness with the fact that Tsumugi’s pace gets faster; the bed shaking every time he pushes his cock in so far his knot threatens to follow it. Tsumugi’s right hand comes up to hold Natsume’s left one, disentangling it from the sheets so he can lace their fingers together. With that movement, a red glint catches Natsume’s eyes, and he turns his head to the side to figure out what it is.

Red, intricate patterns shine back at him, and Natsume realises that the glint came from their bond mark. Sometimes, when he goes for too long without a reminder, Natsume forgets about the ring-looking band that connects them for the rest of his life. Now, it’s impossible to ignore it, considering its glow is brighter than he’d ever seen it be, Tsumugi’s one glowing much the same. Then he notices, just barely, a thin string — as red as the mark — connecting both of them.

It makes him wonder if it’s because of the act they’re performing, but he has little time to think when Tsumugi’s cock rubs against the same place his fingers had earlier. A loud moan leaves Natsume’s mouth, drowned by the sound of a lamp exploding behind him. Shattered glass clinks on the wooden floor, thankfully none of it landing on the bed; if they did, they might as well continue to bleed for a good while, considering Natsume wouldn’t be able to care enough about it when a cloud of smoke overtakes his brain. There are no coherent thoughts in there anymore, just feelings: the feeling of Tsumugi’s lips on his neck, of their hands, tightly intertwined with each other, of Tsumugi’s dick, thrusting inside him with urgency, like he’s selfishly seeking his own pleasure.

Though it doesn’t seem like any of his feelings are only his own at the moment, the blood rushing to Natsume’s head and thudding in his veins feels just as his as it feels not. He can taste his own sweat, even if it’s not his mouth licking it, like everything he’s experiencing is shared between both him and Tsumugi. His dick drips incessantly even though it remains untouched; there’s no actual need for it, after all, when he feels the pleasure of being fucked with the same strength as if he himself was the one doing it.

“ _T-Tsumugi-nii— Nii-san—_ ” Natsume calls his name, again and again, saliva dripping from his mouth when he can’t gather the strength to keep it closed. The delightful buzz that makes his legs grow weak builds and builds, a tower of pleasure forming itself until it grows so tall it crashes on top of him. Natsume cries out Tsumugi’s name followed by a confession he’d deny ever making as he climaxes, vision turning white, and he knows it happens for both of them. Cum splatters as high as his chest, at the same time he feels a new kind of warmth fill him up. He breathes, heavily, a gasp at a time until his throat stops burning and he can speak again.

“Natsume-chan,” Tsumugi beats him to it, lifting his head from Natsume’s shoulder to look at him, eyes hazy. It’s clear he’s still in a daze; both of them, really, since Natsume doesn’t berate him for the choice of nickname. Then, as he slowly comes back to himself, his expression changes from post-orgasm glow to worried remorse. “Oh. Oh no. I- I should’ve pulled out— I’m _so_ sorry—”

There it is again, that complete lack of sense that Natsume forgot existed for a second. Tsumugi pulls out hurriedly, and Natsume can feel the cum pour from his hole now that there’s nothing keeping it inside; he frowns, half of it out of annoyance. Tsumugi looks ready to get off the bed, probably to get tissues or a towel, but Natsume stops him before he can do so, firmly pulling at his hair to drop him on the bed, changing their positions so he’s the one on top this time.

“Stop being stuPID. If something like this bothered ME, I would’ve cursed you before you even thought about doing IT.” Natsume glares at him. “It’s not like you could help it anyWAY. You felt it too, riGHT?”

“Ah! That’s right,” when Natsume mentions that, Tsumugi seems to immediately forget his previous worries, “It felt like I was sharing all my feelings with Natsume-chan at some point. It probably has to do with our bond, though I can’t be sure since I never felt anything like that before.”

A part of Natsume’s brain focuses too hard on the meaning of those words; the knowledge that Tsumugi never had that happen with others, be it because he’s never done it with another master, or because even if he _did_ , those bonds weren’t as strong as theirs. It fills him with a weird sense of pride, though he does his best to not let that show on his face.

“We can look into that together tomorrow,” Tsumugi suggests, pushing himself up with his elbows, “for now, would you like for me to run you a bath before you sleep? I can take you there so you don’t have to walk, or if you’d rather just a towel—”

“What are you even talking abOUT?” Natsume tightens the hold of his thighs on Tsumugi’s hips so he won’t try to escape again, “We’re not done heRE. I’ve waited for this for too long to stop after just one tiME. We’re doing it agAIN.”

“ _Again?_ ” Tsumugi gives him a wide-eyed stare. “We _just_ finished, I’m sure you must be tired! You should properly rest, especially since this was your first time, it probably took a toll on you, right? Honestly, I’m not even sure I can do it a second time so quickly too—”

“What are you, an impotent old MAN?” Natsume moves a bit so his ass rubs against Tsumugi’s now-soft cock, feeling the way it twitches at the contact, so it’s obvious that isn’t the case. “Stop making excuses and just get hard alreADY.”

“I really wish you were less crude about things like that…” Though he complains, Tsumugi shows no signs of wanting to get off the bed anymore, clearly defeated and willing to go along with his wants. For someone who was opposing the idea only a second ago, it’s astonishing how quickly his hands move to Natsume’s thighs. “We should at least be careful not to make another lamp explode.”

Now that’s more among the lines of what he wanted to hear. “Can’t make any promisES.” Natsume grins and dips down to pull Tsumugi into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe this is my longest work and it isn't even HinaYu, and that at the start it was meant to be only NatsuSora, but then i watched NBS stage and loved it so much 25k words or Tsumugi/Natsume/Sora dropped from my pocket.  
> It's my first time writing a fic with _any_ of these characters so although I tried my best, I'm sure theres some spots I could do better. Hopefully I'll get there by the time I post more for this AU.  
> Thank you for reading!


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